THE FANATIC INDULGENCE Granted, ANNO 1679. 
Si natura negat facit indignatio versum  
Qualemcunque potest.  Juvenal. Sat. 1. By M r. NINIAN PATERSON.  
EDINBURGH, Printed by DAVID LINDSAY and his Partners, at the foot of Heriot's Bridge, 1683.   

Ad Illustrissimum Principem JACOBUM ALBANIAE Et Eboraci Ducem.  

PRinceps magne meae tibi si placuere Camoenae,  
Muneris instat erit, quod plac●●re tibi.   

At si displiceant, metuendae praem●● poenae,  
Damnum ingens claris displicuisse viris.   

Principis est laus summa tamen, dare dona Poëtis,  
Vel magis ut placeant, displiceantve minus.    

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS JAMES Duke of ALBANY.  
GReat Sir, this Poem still concealed have I,  
Till time hath Christened it a Prophecy.  
Indulgence now unmasked, strives to tryst  
With John of Leyden against Antichrist.  
This is the Trojan Horse, wherein there lies  
Catesby and Vaulx, with new conspiracies.  
This the Shaftburian Crockodil his blind  
To lure Scotes Rogues to English commons mind;  
Nor is this twattling fame, but sure as death,  
Witness where Welsh resigned his latest breath.  
This Meteor impregnated the air  
With some to usurp the throne, and sacred chair  
With a new faith, but not without its works:  
Yet such as more beseemeth jews and Turks.  
But now we're fallen in that dismal time,  
Wherein to utter truth's an heinous crime.  
When squinteyed slander, and hypocrisy,  
In triumph bear away the verdant bay.  
Protect me then, the galled Brotherhood  
Smart censures will reject, though wise and good;  
Being swelled with that same fury, which before  
Glutted itself with our dread Soveraings' Gore.  
Noll is revived, his Ghost drinks our ill health,  
And we must once more try a common wealth,  
No more Succession, rather be't our fate  
To truckle under illegitimate.  
And then in our career, each friend, or foe,  
Just as we please, we'll call, or make him so.  
And like an hurrying flood we'll still increass,  
And swell our channel, as we mend our pace.  
we'll scorn Hobbs Leviathan, while we play  
Ourselves i'th' Ocean of Stern Tyranny.  
Begun Religion, and be buried Law,  
Britain must once more turn Aceldama.  
But oft omnipotency lurks, until  
The Creatures Policy, and prowess fail;  
And GOD will Joseph press, and gall, and wring.  
ere he advance him second to the King.  
And hath decreed this lot for every man,  
To pass the red Sea ere he taste Canaan.  
We see the Sovereign, and imperial State  
Is not exempted from the common fate,  
Nay Heavens impartial, and resistless brow  
Frowns oftener on the Sceptre than the plough:  
When he securely whistles to his teem.  
The other fears a tottering diadem.  
All my desire, Great Sir, is that I may  
Live like an Atom in the radiant Ray  
Of your life-giving heat, and glorious light,  
Whose crisping spires may make me warm and bright.  
Princes are Prophets Guardians, ye know,  
Jacobus Rex was, Aris excubo.  
David was Poet; and King James they sing,  
Was King of Poets, and the Poets King.  
And this emblazons most a Prince renown.  
When he with Muse's Laurel Crowns his Crown.  
Poets and Prophets both inspired of GOD,  
Were Kings Companions, till our late Bound road:  
Where Reason and Religion did invade  
A Frantic passion, and prevailing made  
That giddy fury, that awaits the power  
Of thy more sacred charming Hellebore.  
And be't thy fate, for to suppress this flamm,  
And be true Majesty thy Anagram;  
Which for thy Anagram may justly pass, 
James Stuart Anagr. True Majeste ablato A. S.   
As wanting the dull omen of the A. S.  
And spite of envy may thy glory be  
Confined to nothing but eternity.   

The FANATIC INDULGENCE, ANNO 1679.  

Juven. Sat. 1.  
Sed si mora longior hortum  
Fanatico Indulget non illi deerit amator,  
Mittentur braccae, cultelli, fraena, flagellum,  
Agmina sic veteres referent Whigimiria mores.   

Idem Sat. 2.  
Sic, sic, Fanaticus oestro  
Percussus Bellona tuo pugnavit, & ingens  
Abstulit omen adhuc clari magnique triumphi:  
Nam regem cepit: sic de temone Britanno  
Excidit Arviragus, sat not a est bellua, cerno  
Erectas in terga sudes, ast absit ab illo  
Dedecus hoc Claverus ait.   

Sat. 4. ver. 124.  
Sic vetus indulget senibus Clementia porcis.   

Idem Sat. 6.  
Quae stimulat vos  
jam sibi materiam Ducis indulgentia quaerit,  
Spes nulla ulterior.   

Idem Sat. 7.  
Iramque animosque a crimine sumunt.    

THE FANATIC INDULGENCE.  To the KING. 

1.  
INDULGENCE! thunderclap! Medusa's head:  
Which makes us all like stones, dumb, stupefied.  
And with amazement confidently vow,  
The British isle it is grown afric now.  
It's Crete, its Crete, this Island, and at length  
Indulgence tells us what's the Labyrinth;  
Not in one Town, but all the Nation o'er  
Ten thousand sold to feed the Minotaur.  
And which would make an heart of flint to bleed,  
No hope appears of Ariadne's thread.  
We are in Monsters fertile; after this  
Impossible? incredible what is?  
What is't that the Fanatic asks so great  
Transcends his hopes, or can his wish defeat?  
When we thy Loyal Subjects looked for  
Some Haltionian days, the Tempests Roar:  
And to our eyes on every rising wave,  
Death sits in Triumph, and presents a grave,  
And in the midst of our despairs, and fears,  
Tears drowns our sighs, and sighs dries up our tears.  
We are like Iob's these ninteen years perplexed,  
Betwixt distractions, and destructions vexed.  
And that (dread Sir) though not so strange, as true,  
By Scabs, and Devils now Indulged by you.   

2.  
Indulgence! Mercy LORD! from whence? to whom?  
From CHARLES; Nay: to rip his mother's womb  
As Nero did, I'll ne'er beliveed; like this  
Ovid hath no such Metamorphosis.  
CHARLES' both merciful and wise, to Act  
The much deplored Athamas mistake,  
To murder his own Children, and to spare  
The loathsome vermin the 
* Sanum.  whole body tore.  
To set three Kingdoms all again in flamm,  
And throw poor Meleager in the same,  
To please some mad Althaea's: Acts like those,  
May fret thy friends, not satisfy thy foes.  
To lay the tittle, Faith's Defender, down,  
The richest Jewel of thy radiant Crown.  
Strike Loyalty, Law, and Religion dumb,  
To please a fullsome, nasty, hairbraind scum,  
A furious spawn of fiends, by whom alone  
The devil doth blush to see himself outdone.  
I mean their Master leaders, the rest all sees  
Hes no more brains, then silly butterflies;  
And yet can act such bloody monstrous crimes,  
Not writ in Registers of former times.  
Rebellion, 
The Bishop's murder.  murder, sacrilege, a fault  
Complext, not to be purged with fire, nor salt!  
These to indulge, is Sceptre to resign,  
And let the bramble King it o'er the vine.  
O boundless mercy! Heaven and Hell here lies,  
In strange (how?) reconciled antipathies.  
Base unrelenting fate could thou not spare  
Good Major Weir till now to have got a share.  
Unhappy Mitchel had thou lived so long,  
Thou had escaped in this damned throng,  
And had been sentenced at the Council Table,  
The innocentest traitor of the Rabble.   

III.  
Indulgence in the Hebrew Hamal is,  
Yet Hamilton swears this is none of his  
Projecting, or procuring, or desire;  
His grace would never kindle such a fire.  
The other great, and mighty DUKE, he vows  
It came from Hell for any thing he knows.  
The Legate, men suspected most, he says,  
He acted but as sticks in puppet plays;  
He acted being acted, this was all  
His influence on its original.  
Avaunt than snake unto these dismal deeps,  
Where every thing but damned sorrow sleeps.   

FOUR  
Indulgence is cain's mark, or such another;  
No man may kill him that hath killed his Brother.  
And herein Cain was Scot: the DUKE like GOD,  
Who sent the Traitor to the Land of Nod;  
And yet confined him home to this his Nation;  
A Land of fugitives and trepidation,  
A Land wherein disgrace, and loud tongued shame,  
Hath split the Trumpet of our former Fame,  
Either for Arms or Artes. Your Huskoes yield,  
Ye Sons of Mars its cowards gains the field,  
These only now the Acts of grace commands,  
Because no Widow cursed their swords, nor hands.  
An Apple cleft in two is not more twin,  
Then their Religion and their fights have been;  
Whose chiefest properties lies in their voice,  
Like shearing of a sow, no wool but noise:  
For when with Covenants they brag the stars.  
Unto their heels they do commend their wars.  
Just as the forced air below, doth fall  
In noise and loathsome stink, and there is all.  
They are no witches, though their exercise  
Are parallels, murders and Tragedies.  
They're always grumbling, cruel, furious,  
Ill looking, spiteful, and malicious,  
Blood-thristy Tigers, never pleased but when  
They swill like Leeches in the blood of men.  
Their Baptism they renounce, or do as much;  
They need no Devils each of them is such:  
For being baptised to the Trinity,  
They dare sit mute to the doxology.  
They dare not sing, what they dare say, like those  
Despise in verse what they commend in prose.  
They to their souls in conscientious care  
Prefer their babbling to our Saviour's prayer.  
And take their grounds of fight from the word,  
Because our Saviour said put up thy sword.  
Just like that wily Jesuits mistake,  
That of Saint Peter did salt Peter make.  
They say a Bishop's office is for a Turk,  
Because Saint Paul did call it a good work.  
It brings damnation for to resist,  
Saint Paul did say, they say its the cause of Christ.  
Strange Estredg consciences that quick devours  
Great Camel-truths, fired with gnat-Metaphors.  
Be subject all for conscience sake; these Heroes  
Can swallow that, and fight at curse ye Meroz.  
But as of faith, and manhood, they are outted,  
Their learning too it mightily is doubted;  
Their Logicks out of date, for they do know  
No Syllogism, but in Fer●o.  
And when their courage with their powder's spent,  
Indulgence closeth all in Celarent.  
They're puddle-rithmers too, they dare we see  
Discharge their bombast at our Poesy.  
And it's reported that they largely share  
In glistering Guinies, for their Paltry ware.  
The famine in Samaria we see  
Makes slimy sordid doves dung sell so high, 
2 Kings 6. 25.   
They gave (in guest account) when wanting bread,  
Near ten pound Sterling for an Ass' head.  
(Had all our whigs been there, from rear to van,  
They had happened headless every mortal man)  
Muse burn thy bays, gold and the laurel now  
Is only given to the thick brained crew.  
Empirics let alone, your market falls,  
The Revenues of Close-stools and Urinals.  
We need no potions to our paunch, nor purse;  
Traitors indulged, will gratis murder us.  
Close up the Muse's Courts, the Colleges,  
A living vatican, each Fanatic is.  
Baronius and Bellarmin engrossed,  
Their first two syllables in his brains have lost.  
Our Musics all in discords: acts of grace  
Hath highest trebl's joined with lowest base.  
We croak like Ravens, and we screech like Rats,  
And for one SHARP we have ten thousand flats.  
Out notes so dissonant will ne'er agree  
In Church, nor State, to make an Harmony.  
Our Kirk's a new Benjotral, which we call  
Nor Presbiterian, nor Episcopal.  
All tend to the old chaos, our very Laws  
Are all ingulphed in the good old cause.  
No wonder, Traitors make monopoly  
Of the embalmed Name of honesty;  
And will admit no honest man but him,  
Dare call a Bishop Antichristian limm:  
No honest man if not of their opinion,  
Although he were almighty's dearest minion.  
Saint Paul himself they scorn to call him Saint,  
Because he never took their Covenant.  
Yea from fool-hatred of the Organs they  
Made poor bagpypes sing dumb, and out of play.   

V.  
Indulgences are Popish things, then why  
Should they be fancied by such Saints as they?  
Since their foundation fails them; for it's known  
That neither Saints, nor merits they can own.  
And too, for which I verily am sorry,  
They are not yet come to their Purgatory.  
Besides Indulgences they have no place, 
Vid. Pell. de Indulg: Lib. 1. c. 13.   
If men be not into the state of grace,  
And they the very name of grace think vile,  
Because it sometimes is a Bishop's stile.  
But now the case is stated amongst all,  
Treason indulged makes all sins venial.  
May not the Papist say what need of Rome  
For Pardons now, since CHARLES is Pope at home.  
Had Luther's mind run parallel with his,  
No strife had been about Indulgences.  
Martin had still been Monk, nor had he yet  
In genial sheet protested with his Kate.  
But yet to Pardon those, by Pardons worse,  
Is Heavens dire vengeance, and Earth's heavy curse.  
Saw ye an Ape, that a purgation took,  
Before these news so did our Whigmares look.  
Now like a Passenger that scaped a grave  
In the swelled womb of an impostumed wave;  
They knock the Stars with their advanced head,  
As Phaeton when he the reins did guide.  
With that same success too, the world they'll fire,  
By guiding ill, what they did ill desire.  
For they repent not what they late have done,  
Vowing the second part of that same tune.  
Clearing both throats and pipes; it's not in vain,  
A well paid spring ought to be played again.  
If ancient Sages saws with you have credit,  
To spare a vice, it is the way to spread it.  
Tame mercy is the breast that suckls vice,  
Till hydra like her heads she multiplies.  
In sparing thiefs and murderers, all see,  
A private favour's public injury.  
Should pity spare, and let the gangrene spread,  
Until the bodies wholly putrified?  
What Surgeon would do this, but he that's mad?  
He's cruel to the good who spares the bad.  
Cause feed them fat, and give them flesh and wine,  
Bring in a water pipe to wash the Swine.  
'Cause light the Western lamp, which when it died,  
Was ay with fire and sacrifice supplied  
Give them a power rebellion's trump to blow, 
Lightfoots Temple. Service. c. 9   
In that same breath forbid them to do so.  
Give them all Kirkes', reward them for their flight,  
Encourage them to such another fight.  
When all is done, let the whole world view,  
They only hold Kirk Government of you.  
O Power (I'll not blaspheme) beyond divine,  
To make mere contradictions so combine;  
Things so discordant meekly to agree,  
The Presbiterians and Monarchy.  
The Covenant, and the alledgeance oath,  
Bear-chaff and butter, makes a choking broth.  
No longer then, this Prophecy is hid,  
The Leopard must lie down with the kid.  
Then wheel about, and as at first ye were,  
The Court commands the haughty Presbyter.  
Auspicious peace clapps her triumphant wings,  
Betwixt the Presbiterians Cause and Kings.  
That valiant heel runs from itself at last,  
That lately ran from Bothwel-bridge so fast.  
Yet who should challenge those the King will cocker  

* This was fulfilled in Cameron, and his company the Spawn of the Indulgence.  Stay, stay, & then take up that ewe and yoke her.  
A company of bloody mutineers,  
Who always set both Church and State by th'ears.  
The Planets, if we trust the ginger,  
At their wretcht birth were all irregular;  
A tribe that would that learned Greek compel  
To bring Metempsychosis too from hell. 
Pythagoras.   
Changing like weather Cocks, still at the flight  
Like Metra daughter to the hungry wight.  
Still skittish finding fault with that, with this,  
Making the Bible Metamorphosis.  
The Hieroglyphics of all ill; no less  
Than the perfection of all wickedness.  
For if uncleanness, lies, and murders be  
The Devil's marks, they're Devils more than he.  
Sleep Pluto, sleep, thou has no more to do,  
where's one of those there's hell and Legion too.  
All coxcomb, motley clowns, yet could invent  
A way to Heaven called Kirk Government.  
Where Major Wier, who galls their memories,  
Is now called Maximus, and bears the keys.  
They're Dan and Bethels Calves, yet whom before  
Ladies not on their face prostrate adore.  
These she-Fanaticks worst of Papists be  
If creature worship be worst Popery.  
Yet since Sharp's slain, Justice may fall asleep,  
And her revengful sword in scabbard keep,  
And it may be Astrea's gainful trade,  
To use her balance now, more than her blade.  
Or since correction makes the rabble worse,  
Its gallantry to let them take their course.  
So Lybian Lions in their high wrought rage  
With Bulls and Panthers only will engage.  
While the dull snail, and painted butterfly  
Glides through the Air, or craw'ls securely by.  
We fear not then the Caledonian Boar,  
As the Tangier his wainscot faced Moor.  
For such Indulgence, were he ne'er so wild,  
Would make a Tiger, or a Panther mild.  
How many have severe proceedings ended?  
Whom such indulgence might perhaps amended.  
If jove dart thunder still when men revolt  
He quickly would not leave himself a bolt. 
Si quoties peccant b●mines, etc.    

VI  
Indulgence, if an Act of Policy,  
It's deep as hell, or as the heavens its high.  
To gather altogether in a train,  
And jehu and Baal's Priests to Act again.  
Or else it's like to JESUS who did call  
From Heaven, and pardoned a slaughtering Saul.  
Amen, good LORD; but let us never see,  
Our King accursed for letting Syria free.  
Me thinks, I saw our trembling Kirk for life.  
Panting like Isaac underneath the knife:  
And heard Heavens cry, CHARLES' withdraw that blow,  
Let not these ramms caught in the thickets go.  
But since it's done, Heavens pardon all offence  
In pities, or in Policies pretence;  
Yet we thought Policy should taught you rather,  
To Indulge them as they indulged your Father:  
Or, as he did, we fear, too late you'll see.  
There are extremes of gracious Clemency.  
Since none may say what dost thou, I take leave,  
Indulgeo seldom hes the accusative.   
Mollis illa educatio quam indulgentiam vocamus, nervos omnes, & mentis, & corporis frangit. Quintilianus.  
Nimia principum clementiorum lenitas, innumer a mala, Caedes, Latrocima, in ipsorum ditionibus gignit, adeo principum Indulgentia, quam inclementia publicè nocentior est. Machiavellus de Principe, cap. 17.  
O Cruel, and wicked Indulgence, that is now found guilty of the death, not only of the Priests & People, but of Religion! Unjust mercy can never end in less than blood; and it were well, if only the body should have cause to complain of that kind cruelty. Halls-works first vol. lib. 11. pag. 967.  
In Mr. Ninian Paterson his Book of Epigrams, Lib. 3. Epi. 4. The Ghost of King Charles the First, is brought in, thus speaking, 

Non scelus ingrati populi, non palma rebellis,  
Me non ira poli, noxa, luesve soli;  
Non vis foeta dolis, non daemonis aestus. & astus,  
Sed mea me pietas perdidit, atque fides  
Esto tibi clemens, populo (me teste) rebelli  
Impius es princeps, qui cupis esse pius.   

Englished abus,  
Nor crimes, nor sucoess of the rebel crew,  
Nor yet Heaven vengeance, nor earth's curse me slew,  
Valour not wiles, Hell's craft, nor rage annoyed,  
Me my Indulgence, and my faith destroyed,  
Art thou a pious Prince, learn this of me,  
Kindness to rebels is impiety.     

A welcome to his Royal Highness JAMES Duke of Albany, to the Kingdom of Scotland.  
Nour. 24. 1679.  

NOw, now, I know what made the Eolian ●lave  
Stern Northern Boreas lately so outbrave  
Our hosts of mists and clouds, 
At the arrival of his R. Highness it blew hard.  and sweep the sky  
With his swelled cheeks; to brush a canopy  
For Justice Princely Stuard; that none may know  
Tempests above, or murmurs here below.   

Welcome Great Sir, welcome as was the light  
To Chaos after an eternal night:  
For in this distance from our CHARLES his wain,  
Only lights elder Brother here did reign.  
We were so dark, and in so great a thrall,  
Egypt might well boast our Original.  
And Lesly make less-ly, who says we came  
From Scota pharoh's Daughter; whence our name.  
And make buchanan's Ghost for to recall  
Both our Ius Regni, and Original.   

Shine then upon our poor Cimmerian clime,  
Make this our first of months, of years, of time;  
All annals eternize this happy day,  
Let it be Rubric and an Epochee  
To all succeeding generations: Since  
THE BLESSED ARRIVAL of that Noble Prince.  
Let old men bless their fates, that made them last  
Till now, and young men, that they made such haste:  
For all days until this, had lost their Names  
In golden number, since our late King JAMES.  
Heavens grant our Scotland once more the renown, 
The duchess was reported with Child.   
To bring him forth shall wear the British Crown.  
And since it's thought good fortune Lackeys names,  
Let him be REX Pacificus, A JAMES.  
That so this Isle the world's Epitomee  
(Neptune's enclosure) once more Gods may be.   

you're welcome then Great Sir, to put a date  
To the tempestuous tumults of our state,  
Whose boiling billows to that height did rise,  
Like Giants, to wage war against the skies.  
Ambitious is that raging foaming main  
Once more to exalt itself o'er CHARLES his wain.  
But all in vain, Heavens will all storms defeat,  
Where CHARLES is Pilot, & Great JAMES his mate,  
Be our physician, all our fears appease,  
Calm Church distractions, and cure states disease,  
And crush them (Sir) for they are your worst friends,  
Who turns their public power to private ends.  
Ambitious Phaeton's may they have place,  
Will gladly sacrifice their Country's peace.   

Ye will see Royal sparks amongst our smoke,  
we'll be your Ivi, if you'll be our oak;  
And faithfully we promise for our parts,  
Tho we cannot give Crowns, we will give hearts.  
Let English be more fortunate throughout,  
Bate us that ace, we Scots are still as stout.  
Nor power, nor honour is confined to place,  
The Trojans ruins raised the Roman race.  
Nay we have some who fame and honour breath.  
Dare gaze undauntoned on the face of death;  
Who to the whispers of a palefaced fear,  
Or dreadful danger, never lent an ear.  
Whose purchases although not great, yet good,  
Were bought with sweat, and sealed with their blood.  
All which in camp, or court, by night, or day,  
If you command, are ready to obey.  
May't only please your Highness' quash these fears,  
We have conceived from dalted Whiggimares.  
And yet what ere these villains did presume,  
Their flamm at last did only prove a sum.  
So may health, honour, safety, still attend  
Your Royal Highness to an happy end.  
And still like Caesar's may intrancing bliss  
Crown your desires, or else prevent your wis●●  
And be it registrate in after story,  
Your presence, was our happiness, and glory.    

Ad Illustrissimum Principem JACOBUM ALBANIAE & Eboraci Ducem.  
DUX duce ubique DEO, per te tua Scotia sumit Fracta ani●●s mores barbara, pa●per opes.  
FINIS.