Seasonable Thoughts in Sad Times, Being some REFLECTIONS ON THE WAR, THE PESTILENCE, AND THE BURNING OF LONDON. Considered in the Calamity, Cause, Cure.  
By Joh. Tabor, M. A.  
Non placentia, sed utilia.  Amos 4.10. 
I have sent among you the Pestilence after the manner of Egypt, your young men have I slain with the Sword, etc.  
I have overthrown some of you as God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah, and ye were as a firebrand plucked out of the burning, yet have ye not returned to me saith the Lord, etc.  And Psal. 141.5. 
Let the righteous smite me, it shall be a kindness, and let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent Oil which shall not break my head, for yet my prayer also shall be in their calamity.  
London, Printed for Anne Sell, 1667.   

To the Right Worshipful Sir GERVASE ELWES Knight and Baronet, One of His Majesty's Deputy Leiutenants in the County of Suffolk, and Justice of the Peace and Quorum for the Counties of Essex and Suffolk.  
Right Worshipful!  
THE knowledge of your Piety and Virtue, Candour and Benignity, emboldens me to address these Reflections on our Calamities, with their Cause, and Cure, to the world, under the shadow of your Name, and favour; presuming that with the regularly devout, and truly pious, such as you are, they may find favour, though perhaps not pleasing the nicer Wits of this curious Age, who will mind more the strain of Poetry than Piety, and like Children throw away the kernel to play with the shell: and since they so freely and impartially tax the Vices of all, yet only the humble, and pious will endure to hear of their faults, and there? are few such in these Atheistical days, possibly distasting many licentious and erroneous persons, which yet discourages me not from endeavouring to amend our sad Times, the complaint of all mouths, by reforming our evil Manners, the care of few.  
Now (Noble Sir) you sheltered my person under your roof, and favour in the late Times of Tyranny and Confusion; and when I entered into the Ministry by the Door, with an Episcopal Ordination on my head, in a time, and place that would for that cause only render me slighted and rejected of the most, you therefore contracted the beams of your Countenance more auspiciously upon me; nor shunned to impart to me your pious and loyal thoughts of heart for our then persecuted Church, and distressed Sovereign. A confidence you were pleased to put in me, which hath inseparably obliged my soul to you in the greatest sincerity and dearness of honour and affection; so that if I may be so free with you, I can sincerely profess, no Gentleman in the world possesses a greater love and esteem in my heart than yourself.  
I saw your exuberance of joy, and ecstasy of spirit when you received the happy tidings of the then Parliaments Vote for his Majesty's Restauration, as therein for seeing the return of Glory and Prosperity to our Land: and by this, though absent from you, I can easily guests at the greatness of your sorrow for your Nations sufferings since: Besides, you have been no small sufferer in these woes, chiefly in the fire, in reference to your own Concernments and your Relations: and therefore I conceive a Poem of the nature and design this is, may not be unacceptable to you.  
And since I have had thoughts of making my Reflection on these things public, thinking to contribute something to the return of our prosperity, by turning if it may be, some from their iniquity, I have been glad hereby to catch the opportunity, to testify to the world my due resentments of your manifold undeserved kindnesses; a grateful acknowledgement being the only requital I am able to make for all your accumulated favours, a poor requital indeed, when thus by paying my old score I run but farther into your debt, begging your acceptance from him, who remains  
Your very much obliged Servant John Tabor.   

TO THE Pious Unprejudiced READER, giving an account of the ensuing Poem.  
Christian Reader,  
THE dismal Dispensations of Divine Providence towards us, in that series of sad Judgements lately inflicted on us, viz. the destroying War, devouring Pestilence, and desolating Fire in London, having swallowed up my Soul in a deep sense of our heinous sins as the true cause of our heavy sufferings, I remained some time in a confused plunge of spirit hereby, all other business and employs superseded, till at last recollecting my disordered thoughts, I brought them to a certain composure, and to render them more profitable to myself, and to allay the sharpness of sorrow with the pleasure of some fancy, I framed them in metre.  
I began with the War, therein considering not the History as to the management of men, but the calamity as to the judgement of God: I went on with the Pestilence guided in my Contemplation by the course of that, considering the rise, increase, progress, and deplorable effects thereof, as they happened, but having no thoughts all this time of publishing what I wrote, concluding with myself in regard these Reflections would not be sin shed but with the Sickness, they would be then less seasonable, acceptable and profitable to the Public, the sense of Judgements too frequently wearing off with the suffering, and scarce any thing concerning them than making impression on most hearts.  
But then the startling and astonishing news of the City's Conflagration, hurried my Muse to a new wrack of tormenting griefs, rending me as many others for a time capable of nothing but to stand in the way for News, wherein for some days together we still met with Job's messengers, with sad tidings of increasing misery: till at length occurring the joyful report of the miraculous extinguishing of the Flames, and unexpected Preservation of the unconsumed part of the City and Suburbs, my mind became more sedate and quiet, and my Muse set herself to reflect on this woe as the former, not without some thoughts of Publication, imagining this had revived men's sense of God's just displeasure, and might render them capable of remorse for their sins, procuring these dire effects of it in such a dreadful succession of woes: then purposing to discover all our sins as cause of our sufferings, and knowing that by the Law is the knowledge of sin, I run over the Law of God in my thoughts, and observed how sins of all sorts against every Commandment, and others more directly against the Gospel abound among us, so that our sins being found so great, and numerous, we may not wonder our sufferings have been so many and calamitous: And what ever God in his merciful Providence may seem to be doing for the removal of his Judgements, and restoring of Health, and Peace, and Prosperity to us, and we may flatter ourselves with hopes of seeing good days again; yet otherwise than on the foundation of our Repentance and better Obedience, can we build no assurance of settled Prosperity for the future; for should it now clear up, yet another cloud may soon rise, if we still provoke the God of Heaven.  
And therefore I proceed to add an Hortatory part, persuading to Repentance and Obedience to God's Laws, as the most certain cure of our Calamities, and sure way to have better times, which, (if (as we hope) our woes are in a manner past, yet) may be of good use to us all for the securing us in a flourishing condition for time to come, the Prosperity of any People usually ebbing and flowing with their Piety and Virtue.  
And so at last, I add a Consolatory Part as a Cordial for to cheer the penitent and humble, introducing there, the Historical Relation of our War omitted in the First Part.  
The three first Parts I have composed in a familiar kind of complete Verse, as being for the most part Reprehensive, and Hortatory, therein condescending to the meanest capacities, as meant for the use and benefit of all: In the last, where the Subject is more Heroic, suitably I use quattrains closing the sense with a complete, and rise to a little higher, though not aiming (if I could attain it) at a lofty strain: I seek where to make my Verse serve my Subject, and not subject my nobler matter to my Metre.  
Now candid Reader, I hope the sincerity and integrity of my Design in this Work may obtain an Apology for any defects in the management▪ and the Divinity excuse the want of Fancy: I do more than suspect I shall fall under the censure of seduced Sectaries, though piously affected, because I tax their Errors; of Vicious persons, though loyal and conformable, because I tax their vices; of Hypocrites, especially such as mask traitorous and factious designs with pious pretences to seduce the People, because I lay them open to the world, furtivis nudatos coloribus, and tax their villainies, however palliated, as contributing to our Calamities: But my Prayer to God is, that he would open all their eyes and turn their hearts, the first to follow after Truth, the second Holiness, and the third sort the Truth of Holiness, than I am sure we should be a flourishing Church and Nation.  
If thou blame me (Reader) for any where ripping up old sores, I will assure thee I do not otherwise than for fear that false Prophets have healed the hurt of the Daughter of our People slightly, to let out the corruption the right way by Repentance, lest they fester and break inwardly and kill their souls. If thou complain of rough handling, know it is done with a Surgeons heart, to heal and not wound: and if my Patient cry out of me in searching his sore as an Enemy, I am well assured if he would suffer the cure, he would acknowledge me in the end to be his friend: and when in searching thy sore I touch thee to the quick, lay thine hand on thine own heart confessing thy corruption and sin, rather than stretch out that, or move thy tongue to smite me who only mean thy health, and welfare.  
Read on, and the sweetness of Consolation at last will allay the tartness of Reprehension before: nauseate therefore nothing herein, since all will do thee good, if thou with candour receive and digest it. Accept then kindly what is intended sincerely for Gods, thy Souls, and this Nation's glory from him who is  
Thine in the Lord Jesus, John Tabor.   

To the Reader.  
REader suspend thy Censure, till thou run  
The whole Book over, and when that is done:  
The Author's meaning rightly understood;  
That his Design, if not his Verse, is good,  
I doubt not thou wilt say; and when you see:  
He lays our Woes on our Impiety:  
Think not one Sin, or Party he alone  
Doth here accuse, but all and every one:  
Assure thyself the Author doth design,  
That Times may mend, to mend his heart, and thine.   

Courteous Reader.  
Before thou peruse this Book, I entreat thee, for thine own sake, to turn to and correct or supply with thy Pen, these mistakes and omissions of the Printer, and let not his Errors be imputed to the Author, who fears some will judge he hath enough herein to answer for of his own, but desires thou wilt courteously mend the Printers, and candidly forgive his  
Errata. In the Epistle to the Reader page 4. line 2. & 7. for complete r. couplet, l. 9 before where add every. in the Poem p. 17. l. 10. for Chelmford r. Chelmsford, p. 21. l. 17. for then r. thence, p. 25. l. 2 before stuff add their, pag. 30. that which is under an asterism in the margin refers to the asterism upon Lud in the next page; and the asterism in the margin p. 31. answers to this on Brute, p. 30. p. 32. l. 25. for land r. laud, p. 33. for lately r. late, p. 36. l. 21. before mere blot out are, p. 37. l. 11. before him blot out of, & l. 14. for sweetest r. sweetest, p. 38. l. 7. for to r. too, p. 44. l. 12. for first r. first's, p. 50. l. 8. for religious r. religions, p. 56. l. 7. before glory add bliss and, p. 62. l. 19 for convey r. conveys, pag. 63. l. 2. before please blot out doth. p. 66. l. 28. for sottishness r. foolishness, p. 80. in marginal note for countries r. country as. p. 81. l. 16. for own r. one.   
Seasonable Thoughts IN SAD TIMES.  

Reflections on the War.  
WHere e'er I go, the sighing Air rebounds  
Sad Echoes to my heart, and doleful sounds  
Of Lamentation: still the Plague and War,  
In every place, the talk of all mouths are.  
The Funeral Knells continually ring  
In mortal ears, and thundering Guns do sing  
In the reporting Air, by both are brought  
Nothing but death, and slaughter to our thought.  
Death rules at Land, devouring as he please;  
And sight who will, he's Master on the Seas,  
Thousands at Land away he weekly sweeps,  
By Sea he Hundreds swallows in the deeps.  
From one poor City, in few months he hurled  
So many thousands to another World;  
As against this would a stout Army be:  
Unsatiate yet, in Town, and Country, he  
Hath slain so many Thousands, as might serve  
An Alexander, for a sure reserve,  
If to content his great ambitious mind,  
Another World to conquer he could find:  
These are the dire effects (Oh God) of our  
Transgressions, and thy just avenging power.  
Did then the Persian Cyrus, from an Hill  
Beholding his huge Host, his Eyelids fill  
With brackish tears to think, one age revoled,  
All those would into ashes be resolved?  
And shall so many Christians in one year,  
Be turned to dust, and we not shed a tear?  
O that my head a Fountain wore, and I  
Could vent a stream of grief from either eye,  
Weep, and blot out of Sin the crimson stain,  
Whereby the Daughter of my People's slain!  
Sometimes I sit in pensive posture, and  
Form sad Ideas of the Sea, and Land.  
How while the proud insulting Dutch, and we  
Contend in dreadful Fights for Mastery:  
Hell opes her mouth, and in few hours receives  
Such crowds of Souls, as no time ere retrieves:  
Of Bodies such huge numbers sinking then,  
As threaten to Earth up the Sea with men.  
So that our Ships may for the future strand  
On shelves of bodies, not on shelves of sand.  
Methinks I see the swelling billows boil,  
Heat by the fire doth from the Guns recoil:  
The roaring Guns which pierce the parting air,  
With terror we on Land far distant hear  
They shake the massy Earth, and thunder like,  
Houses, and Windows into trembling strike:  
And each broad side which strikes my ear, I think,  
Now a brave Ship with braver Men doth sink.  
Enraged Mortals striving to outvie,  
Thunder, and Lightning in the lofty sky  
Darken the air with smoke, but fire gives light,  
Or they at noonday would scarce see to sight.  
Blood from the reeking Decks into the Main  
Pours down, like water in a shower of Rain,  
Discolouring the Ocean by its fall,  
As if't would turn it to a Red-Sea all.  
Fireships set all on flames, and make a show,  
As Subterranean fires were from below,  
Broke through the waves: and one would think no doubt,  
Fire strove to drink up Sea, Sea to quench out  
The fire, and men by their contentious action,  
Put all the Elements into distraction:  
But themselves rue most, while the bloody sight  
Gives blood to them, who do in war delight.  
Now on the Decks some shriek with painful  
And others sinking are in deadly swoons: wounds,  
Here a Commander falls, th' Opponents hollow,  
The Soldiers soon in death their Leader follow:  
Here from torn shoulder flies an arm, and there  
From shattered thigh a leg the bullets tear:  
Here wags a head off, this man's brains are dashed  
Full in the next man's face, his bowels pashed  
On his next neighbour, and a third is found,  
Groaning his soul out at a wide-mouthed wound.  
Here Bullets force drives a heart out, which dies  
To mortals rage's a bloody Sacrifice:  
There a head from the bloody neck is rend,  
Mounting as if to hit the Sun it meant;  
Thus the Dutch heads we well may wish to rise,  
And be lift up, above their Enemies.  
But I had rather we, and they in Peace  
Might live, and War might from all Nations cease  
Had not Astraea left the Earth, and rage  
Possessed men's bosoms in this Iron age:  
Had not sin first divided men from God,  
Then from themselves, scattering all abroad  
To seek new Countries, all had still been one  
Language, and People, letting War alone.  
Sin is the only makebate in the World,  
That hath all things into Contention hurled:  
But since the Prince of Peace his happy birth,  
Who came to reconcile both things on Earth,  
And things in Heaven, methinks those who profess,  
Themselves his Subjects, from all wars should cease:  
One faith should be of force hearts to unite,  
In love as much as ere one language might:  
The second Adam should all his restore  
To the same concord, which they had before  
By nature in the first, and not pursue  
Their Christian Brethren, like a Turk, or Jew.  
But what a grief 'tis to good hearts, to see  
Christians among themselves thus disagree:  
And those, for whom Christ spilt his blood & life,  
To shed each others blood in lust, and strife:  
That those, who when they go to sight do pray  
To the same God, that each may have the day,  
And both do hope alike in death to be  
Translated hence to Heaven's felicity,  
Should one another with such fury kill;  
And r●uch rejoice each others blood to spill:  
Good Lord! how will Heaven quietly hold those  
Souls, who just now were here such deadly foes:  
If some of either side to Heaven do come,  
And both to Dutch, and English be their home,  
Could Heaven admit repentance, grief, and sorrow  
Find a place there, those souls would surely borrow  
Time from their heavenly joys this to repent,  
And their unchristian feuds below lament:  
Lament now Christians, and leave of your slaughter,  
There's no bewailing but in Hell hereafter.  
Yet 'tis to be bewailed that such a 'slud  
By Christian hands is shed of Christian blood.  
Thus we contend to blood, but all the while  
The holy Spirit grieves, and Devils smile,  
All the good Angels too are grieved for't,  
But your Contention makes the Devil's sport;  
And the slain carcases of Christians dressed  
In blood, and wounds, make Lucifer a Feast:  
And at these broils the Infidels do laugh,  
Christians should weep, but yet the most do quaff:  
Such direful deeds just God thou sufferest,  
Sinners for their transgressions to infest:  
In times when blood, and wounds make such ado;  
O that our hearts were rightly wounded too!  
And with just grief could bleed as fast as those  
Poor hearts, who have been pierced by their foes.  
Slack Christians, slack your fury! and employ  
Your noble Valour for a Victory  
More worthy praise, than any you can gain  
By numbers of your Christian Brethren slain.  
You Soldiers by Profession are, your life  
A warfare, and you must here live in strife:  
But 'tis a strife more with yourselves than others,  
'Gainst certain foes, and not your Christian brothers.  
The World, the Flesh, the Devil, these are those  
You must still combat with, as mortal foes  
To your immortal bliss; and these will find  
Tough work enough for the most warlike mind:  
But while with Christian men we do contest,  
We cherish, and serve these foes in our breast:  
The World rejoices, Devil takes delight,  
Lusts of the flesh are pleased when Christian's sight.  
Le's turn our force then against them, and show  
What noble acts our Valour there can do;  
The Lord of Hosts our Captain is, and will  
With Armour furnish you, courage, and skill:  
You need not doubt success at all, for he  
Who fights God's battles shall have Victory:  
One lust subdued will you more glory gain,  
Than he whose single Arm an Host hath slain.  
For 'tis more honour, to overcome within  
Ourselves our lusts, than Cities walled to win.  
Great Alexander, who subdued all Nations,  
Continued slave still to his lustful Passions.  
Be of good courage then, subdue your sin,  
And an eternal Crown, and Kingdom win:  
Or if the Warriors spirit can't be laid,  
But it will still in blood, and slaughter trade  
Let Christians valiant, and victorious arm,  
Turn to do Turks, and Infidels the harm  
Which now amongst ourselves, we daily feel,  
And let the Heathen fall upon our Steel!  
There might be raised another holy War,  
More truly holy, than the first by far:  
Not to get Canaan, a Land accursed  
As well for Jews, as Canaanites at first:  
But the insulting Sultan to restrain;  
Who hath so many thousand Christians slain;  
And with his Hundred Thousands oft doth come  
Pouring destruction into Christendom,  
Foraging, wasting all with Fire, and Sword,  
Defying, and blaspheming Christ our Lord.  
Leading away such as the Sword doth spare,  
Into a bondage worse than death by far:  
O that all Christian Princes could agree  
To hamper this Leviathan, and free,  
From his outrageous Inroads, all those Borders  
Of Christendom, where he commits his murders.  
The Asiatic Churches when I think upon  
Mentioned in Saint John's Revelation:  
Oh how it grieves my heart! to think that there,  
Where sometimes famous Christian Churches were  
Now Turkish Mosques do stand, & men adore,  
The Imposture Mahomet, where Christ before.  
And those who yet retain a Christian name,  
Have little else of Christ, beside the same:  
Their low estate allows no means to gain  
Such knowledge, as is needful to retain,  
Religion pure and perfect: Besides, must they  
To this great Turk the tenth child yearly pay.  
The tenth is due (O God) to thee alone,  
And must an Infidel thy tribute own?  
This woe of all their woes is worst, to see  
Their dearest children educated be  
In blinder Turcism, made his Janisars,  
Chief Soldiers against Christians in his Wars.  
When cruel Herod mocked of the Wisemen slew  
So many Infants, he did kindness show,  
Compared to this Turkish Tyranny;  
For 'tis a greater privilege to die  
Innocent Martyrs, and go hence to glory,  
Than to be trained up in the cozening story  
Of Mahomet: Poor babes! at once must you  
Be from Christ's bosom, and your Parents too,  
By Tyrants-force thus miserably torn?  
Better it were you never had been born.  
Let us reflect, and think did we now hear  
The approaching feet of Turkish Officer,  
Entering to take away our darling child,  
Oh what a plight should we be in? how wild,  
And quite beside themselves, would surely be  
The tender Mothers of the Infantry?  
Who, that their senses have, would not desire  
To see their tender Infant's soul expire,  
His brains dashed on the wall before his eyes,  
And how the sprawling Corpse convulsing dies,  
Rather than such should us of them bereave,  
In thraldom, and Idolatry to live?  
But who do think on this with pity, and  
Deplores not the sad state of Grecian Land?  
Now than it were a noble enterprise,  
If Christian Princes hearts, and Arms would rise,  
To pull down this proud Sultan, and restore  
The Christian Faith where't flourished before;  
And free afflicted Greece, once the World's eye  
From Turkish thraldom, and Idolatry;  
And all those Christian souls which yearly come  
Tribute, and Captives from poor Christendom.  
If th' English and Dutch Fleer would both combine,  
T' assist the bold Venetian,  
Worthy of Christian Valour) they would make a design  
The Vaunting Signior with his Galleys quake:  
If throughout all Christendom were more  
(Like those brave Knights of Malta, who have swore  
Destruction to the Turks) that would combine  
Quite to raze out the bloody Ottoman line:  
Then Christendom might flourish, and be free  
From Devastation, and Captivity.  
God grant us Peace at home, and send  
Us Victory abroad, and end  
All Wars 'mong Christian men, and cease  
The Plague his War with men; In peace,  
And health grant us to live, that we  
Might still a happy Kingdom be.  
But though the Lord in War on our side stood,  
And gave us Victory for the price of blood,  
Allaying this sore Judgement by success,  
Which in the loss of lives makes grief go less:  
Yet the Plague raging far and nigh, destroys  
With sweeping slaughter, and doth damp our joys:  
This casts my soul into a sad Reflection,  
On the just Vengeance of such dire Infection.   

REFLECTIONS ON THE PESTILENCE.  JER. 9.9. 
Shall I not visit them for these things saith the Lord? Shall not my soul be avenged on such a Nation as this?  
WHen the just God did visit London first,  
Our danger less, our fears were at the worst:  
In every place men stood upon their guard,  
And against Citizens kept Watch, and Ward:  
Had we done so against our sins before,  
Less had our danger been, our safety more:  
But when this dire Destruction still doth last,  
And round about us fearfully doth waste;  
Hardened by custom, we do nothing fear:  
Our dangers greater, but who sheds a tear?  
Our hearts are stone, were they of marble kind  
'Twere well, marble sometimes we weeping find.  
On the great City of this sinful Land  
London, with wealth, and folk, abounding, and  
With sin, the cause of woe too, God first poured  
The brimful Vial of his wrath, and showered  
His ireful Judgements: There his Angel drew  
The Sword of Vengeance, and that people slew,  
At first by Ten, which soon to Hundreds come,  
Then Thousands weekly sent to their long-home.  
The frighted Citizens begin to fly  
From House, and Habitation, lest they die:  
They leave their livelihood to save their life;  
And where they come, their coming makes a strife.  
Lest they bring death with them, Towns are in arms  
To keep out Citizens, as mortal harms:  
Wagons, and Coaches still in every Road  
Are met with, which they, and their Goods do load:  
Where they shall shelter find, they scarce do know,  
Yet durst not stay at home, where e'er they go.  
Some who did thure in stately Houses dwell,  
Now gladly creep into a Countrey-cell:  
And others wandering up and down the Fields;  
No Town, or Village them admittance yields:  
Thus from the Rod of God poor Sinners fly,  
Not from their Crimes, for which they smart, & die.  
Alas! what boots it from the Plague to start,  
And bear with you a worse Plague in your heart?  
Running will not secure you, you're undone,  
Unless you know how from yourselves to run:  
Had you yourselves forsaken, when at home,  
You need not thus about the Country roam.  
Had you fled from your Sins before as fast,  
You need not from the Plague have made such haste.  
Had you been just, and honest in your Trade,  
To deal uprightly, had a Conscience made;  
False weights, and measures, and deceitful wares, the snares  
False oaths, equivocations, lies,  
For simple buyers,) had you never used:  
Nor with great prizes Customers amused:  
For which i'th' Country you a Proverb are;  
You ask, say they, just like a Londoner:  
Had not your Shops been Dens of such as theive,  
And lie in wait cunningly to deceive;  
Nay oftentimes your cozening with a show  
Of honesty, and goodness cloaked too:  
No Plague had likely nigh your dwellings come;  
You might securely still have stayed at home.  
Had you but kept your Conscience, so you might  
Your Shops with comfort, free from deadly fright:  
But when you turn out Conscience first, no doubt,  
God's Judgements after't justly turn you out:  
And if you ere get home again, beware!  
More Plagues in store for Sinners still there are:  
But for a while here they resolve to be,  
Till London shall be from Contagion free:  
But there Contagion is, from which, I fear  
You'll never find the sinful City clean.  
But now le's think on those who stay behind,  
Distressed in Body, and Estate, and Mind:  
Who know not where to sly, and fear to stay;  
But yet must bear the burden of the day;  
A wrathful day, a dismal time, wherein  
Thousands receive the wages of their sin:  
Some have no Friends to go to, nor yet Coin  
To make them any, some the Laws enjoin  
To stay, and do their Office, some presume,  
And others trust no Plague shall them consume.  
But it increases, spreads, destroys, doth make  
Such as remain, for fear of death to quake.  
Now might you see red Crosses there great store,  
And Lord have mercy upon many a door:  
The Wardsman standing, as if he were sent  
Death's Bailiff to arrest the house for Rent,  
And turn the dwellers out; and sure I am,  
But few could live long there after he came:  
Now Knells of death continually do ring,  
And that same doleful sound of Buryers, bring  
Your dead out, mortal Ears with terror pierce;  
And now a Cart becomes the only Hearse  
To bear a heap of bodies to their Grave,  
Which neither Obsequies, nor Rites can have  
Of Christian burial, the best of all  
Have now no Friends attend their Funeral:  
No cost of Heirs, no Mourners to be seen,  
But driven in a Cart, as they had been  
From hanging carried, thrown into a pit,  
No Priest to say, Earth to Earth I commit.  
Now might you see all faces blackness gather,  
The Son lamenting for his dying Father,  
The Wife for her deceased Husband crying,  
And Parents mourning for their Children dying:  
Now might you hear some from their windows cry,  
Bread for the Lords sake, or we starved die;  
Groaning at once under two dismal woes,  
The Plague, and Famine, both their deadly foes.  
Now Friends, and Neighbours keep at distance, fear  
T' approach their nearest Kindred, for life's dear:  
The Father dreads to see his only Son,  
The Son to see his Father too doth shun,  
The Husband dreads his Wife, whom he with dear  
Embraces used to hold, durst not draw near,  
The Wife's afraid her Husband to behold,  
Whom in kind Arms she used to enfold:  
Now such as yet do dwell in health and ease,  
Know not how soon the Plague on them may seize:  
Where lately by our King's happy return,  
All joy, and triumph was, and then to mourn,  
It was piacular; behold! and see  
How sad now there, and mournful all things be!  
And now it were ridiculous to laugh,  
Yet some bold sinners now game, sing, and quaff:  
Nay (as 'tis told) some by dead Corpse do play,  
Away the remnant of their lives short day:  
Poor London! this thy sad condition is,  
Yet who bemoans thee? and who weeps for this?  
Thou sittest disconsolate, of joys bereft,  
In thy distress by friends, and lovers left:  
Such as to satisfy their Pride, and Lust,  
Spend here their wanton Summers yearly must;  
When they have helped to bring the Plague upon thee  
Now in thy woe, and misery fly from thee:  
But let them go, if they mend not, no doubt,  
God's Judgements in due time will find them out:  
Though it begins with thee, and you must bear  
The Almighty's wrath, for that you sinful were;  
A wrath so killing, that your dead do come  
Unto nine Thousand in the Weekly sum;  
And 'tis reported, though Bills speak no more,  
Fourteen might be some weeks upon the score.  
Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Is  
His mercy gone for ever, and your bliss?  
O spare thy people Lord, thy people spare!  
Who with thy precious Blood redeemed are:  
Will God his anger evermore retain?  
Will he still frown, and never smile again?  
No, he is gracious, and his mercies sure,  
His pity doth from age to age endure:  
Humble thyself, and hope well London! for  
God will not cast off his for ever, nor  
Be always wrath, slouds at the highest fall;  
So now his overflowing Judgements shall:  
He will consult his bowels, and have pity  
For mercy sake upon an humbled City:  
And ere the year went round, the Plague was so  
Abated, folk a pace did thither go.  
Theirs ended: now began the country's woe.  
And as provoking Sin its course hath run,  
Avenging Judgement after that hath gone.  
As London like the Fountain, sent forth streams  
Of evil through the Land, so now the gleams  
Of wrath, dart thence the Plague abroad, and thus  
Sent Death into the Country among us:  
Colchester for two years her Thousands paid  
For tribute unto Death, poor Braintry's made  
To give her Hundreds, Chelmford escapes not free,  
And Mousham long hath worn Death's Livery.  
In Easterford Kelv'don upon the way,  
Death took into an Inn, and made some stay;  
But, (blessed be the God of Heaven) slaughter  
Was here no dweller but a sojourner:  
As once the year before he here was sent  
Into a Cottage, but no further went.  
But in most Market-Towns about us slays,  
And by his terror puts down Market-days.  
Whereby the Poor want work, the Farmer vent  
For his Commodities, his Landlord Rent,  
And such whom God doth in their persons spare,  
Deep in their Purses now afflicted are:  
Money is dead as well as People, Trade  
Is low, yet Payments high must needs be made.  
For Sickness, and the War do both require.  
Though things we sell are low, our Rates be higher.  
This is our woe, this is our great distress,  
The more's our sorrow, Is our sin the less?  
'Twere well if so, our loss would be our gain,  
Nor would I doubt to see good days remain:  
But this I cannot see, and therefore fear  
No end of these, but a third woe is near:  
Gods knows what will be next, but sure, unless  
We better prove for these, God will not cease  
To punish us, he hath more Plagues in store,  
And can for sin afflict us seven times more:  
Since both the War, and Sickness still endure,  
And once to know the Cause is half the Cure;  
Let us reflect on that, and throughly try  
To search the Cause, and find a Remedy  
For these Calamities, which make so long,  
Have mercy Lord, the burden of our Song:  
Let's see what hinders mercy, and what sure  
Course we must take, his mercy to procure:  
But while I was about to think on this,  
Another woe befell; The City is  
All on a flame, the Country in a fright,  
Our thoughts distracted, business put to flight,  
All stand i'th' way to hear what news from thence,  
As men astonished, even bereft of sense:  
But when my Muse herself could recollect;  
On this third Woe began she to reflect,  
Resolved at last by light of th' Fire to see  
The cause of all these woes, and remedy.   

On the BURNING OF LONDON.  JER. 18.7, 8. 
At what instant I shall speak concerning a Nation, and concerning a Kingdom to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy it.  
If that Nation against whom I have pronounced, turn from their evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them, etc.  
THe War still slaughters, & the Plague destroys,  
And England mournful sits, bereavest of joys,  
Abandoned to sorrow: yet God's Hand  
Is stretched out against this sinful Land:  
And as the City London still hath been  
The Spring, and Fountain of the Nations sin,  
Another wrathful Vial God doth spill  
On them, and thence the Land with terror fill.  
Heaven from the former with provoked ire  
Shed death among them, but from this a Fire,  
A wasting fire: scarce had that Vial done  
Dropping down sickness, ere this woe begun,  
And all at once in flaming fury thrown  
On this great City, quickly burnt it down:  
God seemed to slack his wrath, the Pestilence  
Was in a manner quite removed thence:  
And having swept the City, thence did come,  
And all about the Country strangely roam:  
And those who hither fled for safety, fly  
For danger hence, and gladly homewards hie:  
London is quickly filled, Trading returns,  
No miss, or thought of those are in their urns:  
And with the People sin returned too  
Unmortified, by all the Plague could do:  
This fostered in their flight, brought home again  
In their return, bred their ensuing bane:  
They come the same men home, take the old course;  
Whom judgements do not mend, they oft make worse:  
The Beasts God saved in Noah's Ark came out  
Beasts as they went in, and some Men, no doubt,  
Have no more sense of mercy, when they live,  
While God doth others to destruction give:  
I'm scaped among the eight in Noah's flood,  
Yet this deliverance did not make him good;  
He's saved, the World destroyed, yet when all's done  
Wicked comes forth and proves a cursed son.  
So when the Plague like to a deluge swept  
In London, and God there a remnant kept  
Alive, and such as to the Country fled,  
A life in mercy here in safety led;  
London replenished once, the Plagues forgot,  
And God that sent it too, the folk no jot  
Amended by it, but the Plague is still  
Most in their Hearts, when lest 'tis in their Bill:  
Therefore as when the Plague of Leprosy  
Among the Jews, could no way purged be  
Out of their houses, God's Law did require,  
Such houses should be burned down with fire:  
So when the Plague of Sin could not be purged  
From out that sinful City, sharply scourged  
By that of Sickness, God himself in ire  
Burnt down their Houses with consuming fire.  
Upon September's second day i'th' year▪  
Much talked of 
* Sept. 2. 1666. by two in the morning began this fire, which was not suppressed in all places till Friday morning following.  Sixty six, did there appear  
By two i'th' morning these consuming Flames,  
Which did break out first in the Street of Thames:  
And then blown on by a strong wind into  
The City, what e'er Art, or strength could do  
Of men to stop, or slack its fury, by  
The Friday morning did in ruins lie  
The greatest part of that within the Wall,  
And much beside of that we Suburbs call:  
For it broke through Newgate, and went on  
To Holborn-bridge, and had through Ludgate gone,  
Up Fleetstreet unto Temple-bar before  
Its fury stopped, and did burn down no more:  
If what without the Walls is burnt, you count  
For that which stands within, as tant'amount;  
Even the whole City in a manner lies  
A ruinous heap to all spectators eyes:  
To quench this fire men laboured all in vain,  
It wasting run like wildfire in a train,  
Than you might hear at first the doleful sound,  
Fire, fire cried all about the City round,  
And there you might behold with weeping eye,  
By fire a whole Street, quickly ruined lie;  
Th' increasing flame mounting its spire to Heaven,  
Laid th' aspiring buildings with earth even:  
There might you see the Water-Engines plied  
With toilsome hands, but God success denied;  
They quickly broke, and people's hearts while they  
Behold their Houses to the flames a prey:  
Thousands did strive to quench the fire, but all  
Laboured in vain, the stately Structures fall  
Before its fury: Some do water bear;  
Others pull down such houses as are near,  
To stop its progress, but aloft it flies  
O'er th' interval, and makes a Sacrifice  
Of the next Mansion, thence again doth haste,  
The rest with sweeping Vengeance to lay waist:  
No Church, no Hall, no House, no Hospital  
Can stand before it, but it ruins all:  
What will not burn, it breaks with piercing heat,  
And tumbling down with rubbish fills the street:  
As when a field of stubble's fired, and  
It runs like flowing billows cross the Land  
Blown with the wind, or as when torrents fall  
From some steep Hills, they bear before them all  
Stands in their way: E'ven so this fire runs on,  
And in a little time a mile hath gone:  
Buildings of all materials you can name,  
As stubble were before the spreading flame;  
Which like a falling torrent swiftly flows  
Through London streets, it comes and down all goes:  
Which while the tired people do behold  
With deep astonishment; their hearts grow cold  
Within them by this fire, when thus they view  
The fate of old Troy light upon the new.  
Now might you poor distressed people meet  
With streams of tears lamenting in each Street:  
Were these for sin, they'd sooner quench the flames,  
Than all the water of the River Thames.  
Some you might see there with extremest passion,  
Bewail their loss as nigh to desperation.  
Now might you see our Sovereign Lord the King,  
Water himself unto this fire to bring,  
I mean in mournful eyes, weeping to see  
His City's ruins, Subjects misery;  
Whose sorrow was their solace, as compassion  
To those in woe's a kind of Consolation:  
Nor did his tears speak pity only, but  
By comfortable words he solace put  
Into distressed hearts, and night, and day  
Road up and down from place to place, to stay  
By all means possible the running Flame:  
Giving forth orders looked to see the same  
Effectually performed, venturing where  
Inferior persons dared not to come near;  
And with his hands to labour did not spare,  
('Tis said) and to expose his life, through care  
To save the City, for a rumour slew  
Abroad of treachery, if that be true;  
To think, I tremble in what peril then  
Our Sovereign was among the rout of men,  
When any foe had opportunity  
To act a not to be thought of Tragedy:  
But praised be the King of Kings alone,  
No hand, or tongue was moved by anyone  
Against our King, all joyed, and blest him, when  
They saw his care, his grief, his labour then;  
But nothing would assuage this furious fire,  
Which all attempts to quench did raise but higher:  
As the Smith's forge by water grows more hot;  
When fire of water mastery hath got:  
All limbs, and spirits tired were, but yet  
Their hopes grew lesser, and the Flames more great:  
Now faint, and weary, and despairing quite  
ere to put out the fire, all in a fright,  
(Giving o'er the whole City to the will  
Of God, and fury of the Flames, which still  
Rage more, and more) (too soon perhaps) disperse  
Their several ways, to save stuff, and purse:  
As when a Town's besieged, ta'en and sacked;  
Their Goods away like Plunder now are packed:  
But many, whom the Flame surprised before,  
Out of their Houses they removed their store,  
Lost all their Goods, and in one hour were some,  
Wealthy before, mere beggars now become:  
And those who most did save, and bear away,  
Much of their Goods left to the Flames a prey:  
Th' excessive rates of Cars made much not worth  
Removal, though they safe could get it forth:  
Some hurrying what they snatched out of the fire  
To the first friends they thought of, when that nigher  
Approached those places, now with speed they were  
Compelled their things away from thence to bear.  
And the fire still pursuing them as fast,  
Forced them soon to a third remove in haste:  
Thus some to shift their place were oft compelled,  
Who still in hopes the fire would be quelled,  
Would not quite leave the Town, until at last,  
All thinking the whole City it would waste;  
No other refuge sought but open fields:  
Man loath at last unto God's Judgements yields.  
moorfield's with piles of Goods are filled, and there  
Their Owners lie abroad in th' open air:  
Thousands who lately went secure to bed,  
Their dainty limbs on Down, or Feather spread  
In stately Mansions, now abroad must lie,  
The Earth their Bed, and Heaven their Canopy.  
And after three days toil, trouble, and fright,  
Having no ease by day, nor rest by night,  
Nor leisure all this time, due food to eat,  
Now in the fields may sleep, but still want meat:  
Many who late fed on delicious fare,  
Would now skip at a crust, though brown it were:  
But hold! with horror think I now upon  
(What's yet forgot) the sad condition  
Of women then in travail, and such there  
As in this time sick, weak, and dying were:  
For scarce a day revolved, but you might  
Here there of births, and deaths each day and night.  
How many sad Benoni's now were born!  
While labouring mothers through the streets are born.  
How many frighted Parents now miscarry,  
And travail must, at home they may not tarry!  
How many while they in the fields do lie,  
Have pangs of Childbirth, and delivery!  
How many dying persons now expire!  
Breathing their last like Martyrs in the fire;  
Their Souls like Manoah's Angel, soaring on  
The mounting Flames to heavens blessed Mansion:  
How many dead have Roman burial there!  
Their House's funeral piles wherein they were  
Now burned, and lie buried underneath  
The ruins of the place, where seized by death.  
As when our Saviour in Judea wrought.  
His powerful Miracles, they sick folk brought  
On Beds, and Couches to him; Even so you  
Might see them carried forth the City now;  
But with this difference, then to him they came  
For life, and health, but fly hence for the same:  
These were the sad disasters, which the ire  
Of Heaven did punish sinners with by fire:  
The Rampant Flames went on victorious still,  
On both hands levelling up to Tower-Hill,  
Approached, as if 'twould offer an assault,  
But there received a blow, and made an halt;  
Houses blown up, by which a breach was made,  
Proved the best Rampart now, whereby was stayed  
The fury of this foe, and in one hour  
Gunpowder cooled his courage, saved the Tower:  
Is Powder then the way to quench a Flame:  
Strangely begun, went on, went out this same.  
Stranger Experiment sure ne'er hath been,  
Thus by a blast to save the Magazine.  
But had the fire came on, the Tower ta'en,  
How had that strong and ancient Structure lain,  
Great Britain's strength and glory, in the dust!  
For want of Ammunition than we must  
Yield to our foes; But God (blest be his Name)  
Would not commit the Tower to the Flame:  
Which elsewhere forward went, Newgate can't hold  
This fire, it broke the Prison, and as bold  
As ever, unto Holborn-Bridge it strayed,  
But there through mercy was its fury stayed.  
Yet still in Fleetstreet did it wander far,  
E'ven to the Temple, but God put a bar  
There to this lawless fire, and here suppressed  
This Tyrant's raging force, and saved the rest;  
For which we ought with thankful hearts to raise  
To him some Trophies of immortal praise.  
Now he that once gave forth his Law in Flame,  
Would not at once destroy ours by the same.  
Now he that saith, from Truth he will not vary,  
God's mercy was the Temple's Sanctuary.  
Had not his mercy now a remnant spared,  
Like Sodom, and Gomorrah we had fared:  
The City for the most part ruined lies,  
To Gods just vengeance a due Sacrifice;  
But through his mercy, just like a firebrand,  
Out of the burning plucked, the Suburbs stand:  
Their Goods for the most part too, and lives he saves,  
Who in their houses might have found their graves:  
But now when I reflect on what's consumed,  
How many Churches are themselves inhumed!  
How many Hospitals are Cripples made!  
How many lofty public Halls are laid  
E'ven with the ground! my quill in tears I steep,  
My Muse sits down in dropping Verse to weep.  
Now stately Churches in their Graves are laid:  
Altars themselves are Sacrifices made:  
And now old Paul a Martyr is once more,  
And that in England, which we must deplore:  
His Temple in the fiery Ocean stood  
Like to some Island, but the raging flood  
Of Flames hath drowned its glory, overturned  
This wondrous Fabric, wonder! how it burned!  
The School itself Ignis could not decline:  
The Pulpit could not its own fall divine:  
Yet falling preached Earth's glory is a trance:  
The Organs could not pipe, though the Stones dance:  
Paul falls away in's old age, the Saint hath  
By strange Apostasy now broke his Faith 
† The roof of Paul's falling, broke strangely through into St. Faith's Church underneath Paul's.   
Yet he who when he lived wrought many, fell  
Not now 'tis said without a Miracle.  
His Altar, Clothing, Canopy remained  
Untouched, and unconsum'd when the sire reigned  
O'er all the rest, lest some fanatics shall  
Report the bowing that way made him fall.  
But since he now lies buried in Faith,  
My heart hope of his Resurrection hath:  
Where could the Doctor of the Gentiles have,  
Than among learned Books 
* Many Books by the Stationers were put under Paul's Church, to secure them from the fire, but there were burned. , a fitter grave:  
Now some obscure Authors, Profane, Divine,  
Are brought to light, and their names made to shine:  
Some of them said, Tempus est edax rerum,  
But this fire proves itself so, and doth jeer 'um.  
Were I Poet only, no Divine,  
I chiefly might lament the loss of Wine;  
But I care not if it were burned all;  
Too much of this hath made the City fall.  
See how this fire did worldly glory jeer!  
View the Exchange! O what a change is here!  
Now from the Steeple of the stately Bow  
The Bells are shot, and run indeed, but so  
That scarcely one of twelve well cast is found;  
All are like water spilt upon the ground:  
You that were wont to make the Ringers sweat,  
Now are yourselves in a far greater heat:  
Ringers keep up your bells! so we would man,  
But they will fall too fast, do what we can:  
Now for the bells men wring their hands, to see  
How the sweet Ring of Cornhill melted be:  
The Town's on fire, ring the bells backwards all!  
Alas! they cannot, for they backwards fall:  
For help to save themselves they cannot call,  
How sits the City solitary, who  
Was full of People only full of woe?  
How like a Cottage in a Garden shows,  
Or a stormed Garrison sacked, burnt by foes,  
This ancient City! which as stories tell,  
Brute 
* Lud King of Britain.  built when Samuel judged Israel,  
And called it Troy-novant, 'twas ominous sure,  
And signified Troy's fate it must endure.  
Lud 
* Who as Stories tell landed at Totnes in Devonshire, Anno Mundi, 2855. and before Christ's birth, 1108. years, and soon after built here a City, calling it Troy-novant.  afterward rebuilt, more ample made  
This City unto Ludgate, which 'tis said,  
Derived its name from his, nay some aver,  
He his name to the City did transfer;  
And changed Troy-novant into Ludstown,  
Which time hath changed to London of renown  
For age, yet beauty, strength, wealth, glory, scarce  
To be paralleled in the Universe:  
The ancient fear of Kings, and royal place  
Of British, Saxon, Norman, Scottish race;  
And which hath hitherto by age, and time,  
Grown but more beautiful, than in its prime:  
But not without some alteration, true,  
It hath oft like a Snake changed skin, and hew:  
Nor did it always scape the fire before,  
But in the conquerors twentieth year 
(a) Anno Dom. 1086.  it bore,  
Such marks of wasting Flames as at this day:  
The greatest part in ruins than did lay.  
Saint Paul's which Ethelbert, 
(b) King of Kent: and moved by Mellitus Bishop of London, to found this Church Mellitus consecrated Bishop, An. Dom. 606.  of Saxon men  
First Christian King, did build, was burnt down then;  
This Erkenwald 
(c) Consecrated Bishop of London, An. Dom. 675.  its Bishop had enlarged,  
Adorned, Enriched, all which this fire discharged.  
But the next year 
(a) Anno Dom. 1087.  Mauritius piously,  
Another Prelate of this Ancient See,  
Laid the foundation of a far more fair,  
Magnificent, and stately Structure there;  
Which in process of time, by bounteous hand  
Of pious Benefactors, late did stand  
This Nation's glory, others envy, and  
Not to be paralleled in Christian Land:  
The boasted of fair Church of Nostre Dame  
In Paris, might be Handmaid to this same;  
When our St. Paul was in his pomp, I trow,  
Their Lady set by him would make no show  
Until the Steeples Heaven assaulting Spire,  
By Lightning sent from Heaven was set on fire:  
As if this seemed to imitate the pride  
Of Babel builders, whom God did deride,  
This lofty Pyramid he burned down;  
Which fire seized on Paul's roof, & singed his crown,  
And with its smutty beams, scorched his head,  
Blacked and defaced the whole Structure, and made  
Paul look more like, to such as did him mark,  
An Ethiopian, than an English Clerk:  
The marks of which he for a long time bore,  
Nor could regain his beauty as before;  
Till to the Land of God, and his own praise,  
The Reverend Archbishop Land did raise  
Paul's to its pristine glory; till late times,  
When Sacrilege, Rebellion no crimes,  
But Virtues were accounted: Some men's zeal  
Could devour whole Cathedrals at a meal:  
Christ's zeal for God's House eat him up, more odd  
Was this, their zeal eat up the House of God:  
The holy Tribe, and service, they cast out,  
Brought Horses in, the more beasts they no doubt:  
Thus these fanatics, O abominable!  
Turned the House of God into a Stable;  
And Reformation was there never stranger,  
Where Altars stood, to set up Rack, and Manger:  
Temple profaners must on the sacred sloore  
Your Horse's dung? What could the Turks do more?  
The Jews indeed did less, they to a Den  
Turned God's Temple, but it was of men,  
Though thiefs, but these more brutish, for the nonce  
Make it a den of thiefs, and beasts at once;  
And by such usage, Paul declined a pace;  
The Soldiers gave him deep scars on his face,  
His Walls looked sadly, and his Gates did mourn,  
Until the late miraculous return  
Of King, and Bishops, who removed th' abuse,  
And Paul's restored unto its pristine use:  
And daily did re-edify, repair  
All parts about it, which lately ruin'd were:  
But by this raging fire, which now befell  
The City, sparing neither Church, nor Cell,  
Paul 'mong the rest into his Grave is thrown,  
Whence we expect his Resurrection:  
In King, and Bishops, to good works inclined  
We Ethelbert, and Erkenwalds to find,  
And generous Mauritus too do trust;  
Who will redeem Pawles once more from its dust:  
Nor do I doubt, did we but lay to heart  
The causes of our woes, by which we smart:  
Or would this stubborn Nation but endure  
The means of their Recovery, and Cure:  
Th' Almighty would in mercy soon restore  
The City to its beauty, or to more:  
It should not long as now in ruins lie;  
Nor noise of War our borders terrify:  
The kill Plague should in all places cease,  
Our Land enjoy Prosperity, and Peace.  
Let us consider then of all our woe  
The Cause, the Cure we shall the better know.   

The Cause of our Calamities.  
THE Cause of all, in highest heavens I seek,  
And in our sinful bosoms, which do reek  
With boiling lust, whence sinful deeds do rise,  
As vapours from the Earth, above the Skies  
Ascend, and make those clouds of Gods just ire,  
Which thundered forth the War, lightened the Fire,  
And did on this provoking people pour  
Of mortal sickness a contagious shower:  
Not for the causes merely natural  
Of all these woes, or means instrumental,  
Search I, but for the prime efficient,  
And inward moving cause, were our hearts rend  
With due contrition, this we soon might spy  
Deep in our breasts, for that we must look high:  
God is the Author, and our Sins the Spring;  
Which on us all these dreadful Plagues do bring:  
How many Atheists in this Land do dwell?  
Even Owls at Athens, blind in Israel.  
There is no God, say some fools in their heart,  
Whom war, nor Plague would from their Atheism start:  
Sure by the light of the late dreadful fire  
They'll see their folly, and the light that's higher.  
How many with corporeal fancies serve  
That God who is all Spirit? others swerve  
From his prescription, after their own will  
Do worship him, and are devoutly ill.  
Many a swearing, cursing miscreant,  
As Devils upon Earth, each place doth haunt,  
And do blaspheme Gods sacred Name, in spite  
Of all Plagues, wish a Plague, and take delight  
To tear Christ's wounds, & afresh make him bleed;  
Pray to be damned, but sure they shall not need:  
When neither war, nor plague would these affright,  
God fired their Houses 'bout their ears to light  
Them to Repentance, and thus let them see  
An Emblem of the World's Catastrophe,  
And an Epitome of that Hell Infernal  
In which the wicked after death must burn all.  
How many do neglect, contemn, profane  
All holy times consecrate to God's Name,  
And service now? How is the zeal grown cold,  
Which thronged Christian Churches so of old?  
Scarce the tenth part will in some places come  
To Church, but most do idly stay at home?  
Or to Schismatical Assemblies run,  
Or make an halt until the Prayers be done:  
Of those, who in our Churches do appear,  
How few with reverence, and godly fear  
Behave themselves? some do in Taverns waste  
Those precious hours, when here their souls should feast;  
And one would think, when such a Plague God sent,  
All Christians now would fast, pray, and repent:  
But on the Fasting days, Good Lord! how few  
Will come before thee, and for mercy sue!  
All holidays are mere Play-days now are made,  
Or consecrate to drunken Baechus trade:  
Church doors are opened, & bells ring for fashion,  
But th' Alehouse hath the greater Congregation:  
God's House indeed is styled the House of Prayer,  
But if no Preaching be, few will come there,  
They think't not worth the while to call on God,  
Even when they groan under his scourging Rod:  
They hear, and hear, but never learn to do  
Those duties which all Preaching tendeth to:  
Others whose lusts, and sins the Word controls,  
Nauseate all Preaching, Physic for their Souls;  
And the seduced people, whose blind eyes  
See not of Christ the saving mysteries,  
Yet wholesome Chatechizing want endure,  
For their Soul's blindness though the only cure:  
Thus is God's Service crucified between  
Two thiefs like him, and in his House is seen  
A den of thiefs, one sort rob of him of Prayer▪  
The other rob their souls of his Word there:  
And for the blessed Sacrament, so full  
Of sweetest consolation, to the dull  
A quickening goad, to weak a strong support,  
Assurance to the fearful, and a fort  
To tempted Christians, to such as for sin cry,  
An Handkerchief dipped in Christ's blood to dry  
Their sorrow up, a Cordial to the faint,  
An heavenly banquet to the humble Saint:  
How few will sit themselves, draw nigh, and taste  
This soul refreshing mystical repast:  
'Twas one effect of our late Reformation,  
T' exile this Sacrament out of the Nation  
Almost, some towns in twenty years had not  
Any Communion, they had forgot  
Do this in remembrance of me, and now  
They've lost their stomaches by long fasting; how  
To bring them to an appetite once more,  
That the Lords Table may of guests have store,  
We scarce do know, they have been so affrighted  
From that wherewith their souls should be delighted  
Their Preachers sounding in their ears damnation,  
To scare them from Communion profanation,  
Which was indeed to rise 'mong some, that durst  
Approach without due Preparation first,  
But still forgetting equally to press  
Their duty to receive, though in the dress  
Of Knowledge, Faith, Repentance, Charity;  
That in contempt did as much peril lie;  
The poor deluded people did believe,  
The only danger was if they receive;  
Fly from their Soul's food as their certain bane;  
To whom Christ's Institution is in vain,  
So strangely God's Commandments were then  
Made void by the Traditions of these men.  
Now this lukewarmness to God's worship, we  
May both in Country, and in City see:  
For such contempt of Christ's Authority,  
Might justly some be sick, some weak, some die:  
Mens coldness kindled wrath, that fire anon,  
To make them fervent in Religion:  
You would not come to Church a while ago,  
No Churches now you have to come unto:  
The Gates of Zion mourned 'cause few, or none  
Would enter there, but now you make your moan,  
And mourn for Zions gates, 'cause they are burned  
With fire, and to a heap of ashes turned.  
Zion before in silence did lament,  
Because so few her solemn Feasts frequent  
Now you may mourn in silence, sigh, and fast,  
For that the places of her Feasts be waste:  
Thus want of zeal hath fir'd the House of God,  
Neglect of Worship Temples hath destroyed,  
Nor could you look, but that which burned down  
God's Houses thus, must needs consume your own.  
Thus justly may the War, Plague, Fire, and all,  
For our neglect to serve God, on us fall.  
How many disobedient are to all  
Their Parents, civil, spiritual, natural?  
How rife's Rebellion, while the People strive  
With Prince and Priest neither due reverence give?  
Their Prince's Laws, the people think not right;  
The Priests their Prelate's admonition slight:  
Servants rebel against their Masters, and  
Wives disobey their Husbands sit command:  
Children their loving Parents honour not:  
Obedience among all sorts is forgot.  
What swarms have we of stubborn Sectaries?  
Who all Dominion boldly do despise:  
Nor are afraid to speak of Dignities  
All kind of evil, though most grievous lies.  
The Ark had but one Cham, our Church many,  
Who glad their Father's nakedness to spy,  
With most reproachful mocks, and taunts discover,  
And blazon it abroad the Nation over.  
Nay rather than Fathers in Church or State,  
Shall want the ruder people's scorn, and hate:  
Such whet their tongues to tell the smoothest lies,  
Which these to popular scorn may sacrifice.  
Rebellion though as sin of witchcraft reigns  
Among this headstrong people, whom no reins  
Of Law will rule, no Power curb, or awe  
From following their will, their will's a law  
To them alone, who without fear, or shame,  
Publicly their perverseness do proclaim:  
Saying, if they were not commanded to  
These, and these things they would them freely do.  
O stubborn people! shall there ever rest  
Spirits of Contradiction in your breast?  
Hath God stamped his Authority upon  
Your Governors, and do you think they've none?  
Hath he said they are Gods, and will ye then  
Give less respect to them, than other men?  
Counsels of whispering Seducers, how  
Prone to observe, and promptly follow, you  
Are; but how backwards to obey, we see,  
Lawful Commands of just Authority:  
And is the lawfulness, and duty less,  
Because enjoined? nay more your stubbornness  
To disobey: God is contemned sure,  
And such contempt from men will not endure.  
Yet when for people's sins he Plagues hath sent,  
They oft impute them to the Government:  
So the rebellious mutineers of old  
When the Earth strangely swallowed up those bold  
Conspirators of Corah's faction, cried  
Ye the Lord's people killed, God's hand denied,  
Moses, and Aaron with that slaughter charged,  
Till God by his just judgement them discharged;  
By a sad Plague sweeping these murmurers thence,  
Brought the whole Camp into another sense:  
Now when the like sins among us are spread;  
Shall we not say for these are many dead?  
God's Judgements are a great deep, if we dive  
Too far, we drown all Charity, alive  
Preserve censoriousness, believe I do  
All sorts have sinned, all sorts have suffered too;  
Yet all may hear, what some observe, and dread;  
Most factious places are most visited.  
Have we not murmurers among us too,  
Like to rebellious Corah, and his crew?  
Will, what is Moses, and what Aaron, say,  
Are we not all holy, as well as they?  
To rule, and sacrifice, all would have power:  
Might not for this a fire from God devour  
The City, which as eminent in sin,  
Hath exemplary now in judgement been?  
That whilom was rebellion's spring and nurse,  
And seemed back-sliding to the former course:  
Is now of England's woe, and sorrow source:  
Sin no more so, lest you are plagued worse.  
What murders in this Land committed were;  
For Civil Wars on one side murders are:  
And God doth know, to whose charge shall be laid  
That blood which in our Civil Wars was shed.  
Blood is a crying sin, so much was spilt,  
This Nation cannot but be deep in guilt;  
Especially when Royal blood hath been  
Profanely shed, no doubt a roaring sin;  
And who doth know, but the just God doth make  
Now Inquisition for that blood, and take  
Due Vengeance on us for that barbarous fact,  
The like whereto no Nation ere did act:  
Unless those cursed Jews who crucified  
Their Saviour, for which they still abide  
The wrath of God, and shame of men, as we  
For that through all the world reproached be.  
Nor need we wonder judgement was delayed,  
That this same Vengeance was no sooner paid,  
If it should be for this: For God is wont  
To call men to Repentance first, he don't  
Suddenly punish, but gives means and time,  
That men may see, and sorrow for their crime;  
And so prevent the Plague; now all the while  
Usurpers ruled; Our King was in exile;  
None openly of this might speak a word;  
Which to deluded people could afford  
Due Information of these heinous crimes,  
Which passed for Virtues in those cheating times:  
But since the Throne, and Pulpit too were free  
From Gulls, Impostors and their knavery;  
Since all men saw, what ever such pretended,  
In Self-advancement their Religion ended:  
Since the Saint's coat was pulled o'er their ears,  
Who for a Cloak of Villainy it wears.  
Since that vile murder hath been quite disclaimed  
By a free Parliament, a Fast proclaimed,  
Wherein the Nation annually may  
Humble themselves before their God, and pray  
The guilt hereof may not lie on their head,  
To them nor their posterity be laid:  
Since Orthodox Divines have sound shown  
How sins of others may become our own;  
And so how many ways men guilty stand  
Of Royal blood, before God's bar, whose hand  
Or heart ne'er touched it: not by commission,  
Counsel, or by abetting the transgression  
Only, or by allowing it for good,  
But by our not resisting it to blood,  
Or by not mourning for't enough, or by  
Those sins, which did provoke the Deity,  
So far to suffer villainy to reign,  
For woe to us, to kill our Sovereign:  
Since means, and opportunities have thus  
Of true Repentance been afforded us;  
The only reason of God's Patience;  
Yet so few show a hearty Penitence,  
Even among those most deeply guilty were;  
Who where the Fast is kept will not come there:  
But have such seared Consciences, that they  
Keep a Thanksgiving on that Fastingday▪  
Dwell we not still with those? whose fine tongues are  
More soft than Oil, yet in their hearts have War,  
Who smother are than Butter in their words,  
Yet in design, and wish, are drawing Swords:  
Such as pretended ever to abhor,  
Charles the first death, and seemed zealous for  
The Seconds Restauration, missing what  
In Church, or State they hoped for by that,  
Seem in their discontent to lay the train  
Of th' old Rebellion, venturing again  
A second Charles his ruin, rather than  
Their will shall not be law, and they the men.  
Shall not God visit such a Generation,  
And be avenged on a bloody Nation?  
And since that sinful City cannot be  
Excused from guilt of blood, which was too free  
In contributing to the war, and killing;  
And to the Royal bloods inhuman spilling,  
Not (to the shedding of their own,) resisting,  
To that which came to this, too much assisting▪  
(The Bodkins which the City Dames did give,  
Our Caesar of his life helped to deprive:  
The tumults raised there were Prologue to  
This tragic Act, which other hands did do:)  
Since they could see their King before his Door  
Murdered by miscreants, and weep no more:  
Since blood of loyal Subjects too was shed  
I'th' midst of them, and they scarce shook their head.  
Since they so long supported, and maintained  
Usurping Powers, who in Rebellion reigned  
Under the Kingly power unruly were,  
Yet Tyrants force so long could tamely heaven  
Might not for this God's Justice lately call  
For those Judgements did on the City fall?  
In David's time a Plague on Israel,  
For what Saul did to th' Gibeonites, befell.  
How with uncleanness of all sorts defiled  
Is this our sinful Land, the people wild  
In their unbridled lusts, like Horses they  
Are rank, each for his neighbour's wife do neigh:  
Sodomy, Incest, Fornication, and  
Adultery; Nay of heart, tongue, and hand,  
All kind of filthiness is sadly found  
To be too fruitful in our English ground:  
In Court, and Camp, City, and Country, we  
This kind of sin grown impudent do see:  
The Nation hath the forehead of an Whore,  
Declares her sin as Sodom, and doth more:  
When such as should in others punish it,  
The same themselves without shame do commit;  
Sinners are bold, and do not seek to hide  
Their shame, but all reproof thereof deride.  
We read by Plague did many thousands die,  
When Israel did with Moab's Daughters lie:  
How Sodom, and Gomorrah when they burned  
In lustful heat, God into ashes turned  
By fire from heaven, since first our guilt and blame  
Hath been, well might our suffering be the same;  
And that same filthy City which doth lie  
In ruins, How full of Adultery,  
And all uncleaness was it? and as some  
Observed, the Plague did most in places come  
And rage, where this sin reigned, yet, health returned  
To them, afresh they in their old lusts burned:  
In filthiness they drove on Sodom's trade,  
And now by fire are like Gomorrah made:  
Yet have a remnant 'scaped, like little Zoar  
For shelter unto Lot, let such beware!  
More Plagues in store for sinners still there are.  
Thou shalt not steal, saith God, but O my soul!  
How doth our People's practice this control?  
Will they not rob? Yes, God himself they will;  
In Tithes, and Offerings they do it still.  
In every Parish Vicar you may see  
A witness of the old Church robbery:  
Nor can we yet forget the later time,  
When Sacrilege accounted was no crime:  
When from the Church her Rights, Revenues, Lands  
Were plucked away by Sacrilegious hands:  
When some men's zeal the very Bells did melt  
Bullets to make, their Enemies to pelt:  
When heat of Reformation our Church Plate  
Coined into current money for the State.  
And some men's feud with Superstition rend  
Each piece of Brass from dusty monument:  
When greedy Cormorants stood gaping still  
For gleab, and tithes, even to the Goose, whose quill,  
Thanks be to God, is left us yet to write  
The shame of those, who in such theft delight;  
And was it not Commission of transgression  
Against this Law, to Plunder by Commission?  
Besides their Sequestration, Decimation,  
Was there not cunning stealing in this Nation?  
Whatever some do reckon of their sin,  
Far lesser theives I doubt have hanged been.  
Now when I Fraud, and Cozenage think upon,  
Extortion, Bribery, and Oppression:  
I fear almost in every way and street,  
Go where you will, each man's a thief you meet:  
Some on the Bench are greater theives by far,  
Than such as stand before them at the bar:  
Too often Law, and Livings too are sold  
For bribes, and simony, now very bold:  
Such as do sell, or lend to court must stay,  
And some years hence for expedition pay:  
In every shop a cheating thief doth stand,  
To cozen with fine words, while by the hand  
He friendly shakes you; In each Market, Fair,  
Each buyer finds thiefs are not very rare.  
Each brother will supplant, and falsely deal,  
Each neighbour overreach, which is to steal:  
And I believe, even to the Country's cost,  
The King of all men now is cheated most.  
Whom may we trust, whose word now dare we take?  
Why do we Bonds to one another make?  
There are we see more thiefs among us, than  
House-breakers, Cutpurses, and Highway men.  
Now may I be of Jeremiah's mind,  
And wish some quiet lodging-place to find  
In solitary Wilderness, that so  
I might from such a treacherous people go:  
Who bend their tongues as bows for cozening lies;  
Deceitful men, whom none will trust, that tries:  
Whose tongues are arrows shot out, speak deceit,  
uttering fine words to cheat, they lie in wait:  
Of such God saith, Behold, I'll melt, and try them:  
Reprobate silver, then to be he'll spy them.  
Shall I not visit for these things, saith he,  
And on such people now avenged be?  
And as the City hath notorious been  
For sins of this sort, justly now 'tis seen  
Low in the dust, sunk under its own weight  
Of Cozenage, and Oppression, from its height.  
Landlords intolerably racked their Rent,  
This made them rack their Consciences to vent  
At highest rates their Wares; E'ven forced to cheat,  
To get their Landlord's Rent, their Family meat:  
Fraud, with Equivocations, lies to mask,  
Double the price of any thing to ask,  
Hath been the brand of Citizens we know:  
These things may be the cause of all their woe.  
Thou shalt not bear false witness God hath said:  
How then are Knights of th' post become a trade?  
Nay those who like Saints walk in holy guise,  
Do bend their tongues as bows for telling lies:  
Had there been none who would false witness bear,  
Our Martyred Sovereign had yet stood clear  
Before the worst of Judges, Calumnies  
Were ever blown into the people's eyes  
(Lest they should see his innocence, and wrongs)  
By subtle slander from their double tongues,  
Who fought against, yet said they for him fought,  
Vowed to preserve, yet to the Scaffold brought  
His life, and honour; still belied his Cause,  
His Person, Party, and the juster Laws;  
While in a mockery of Justice, they  
Would seem by Law their Sovereign to slay:  
Falsely accuse God too, Religion, Reason,  
While they would make these seem t' allow their Treason:  
Had not false rumours, & reports 'mong us,  
Into Rebellion gulled the people thus:  
They'd ne'er have suffered Charles the first so good  
A Prince, by Regicides to lose his blood:  
Still the same trade of lying carried on  
Under the mask of pure Religion:  
No Mountebank doth use more lying tricks  
To cheat, than these religious Empirics:  
On women's zeal when they'd commit a Rape,  
The Pander still must be religious Ape:  
To slander King, and Bishops, from the Church,  
Is still the way, new Proselytes to lurch:  
And of all men the holy Tribe are most  
Belied by some, who of their Saintship boast;  
Nor of her sons alone false tales they broach,  
But most the Church their Mother do reproach:  
Schism's backed with slander of the Church their Mother;  
Yet all the Factions slander one another:  
But beside Slanders, Errors, Heresies,  
False Oaths, Equivocations, Perjuries,  
Are in these sinful days among us found,  
To grow, and thrive, and spread in English ground:  
Oaths of Allegiance, some like Sampsons' cords  
Can snap asunder, while a pack of words  
They call a Covenant, contrived by  
A pack of Knaves, must hold inviolably:  
Oaths of Canonical Obedience  
Many to keep make little Conscience,  
But swallow them, and think no more upon't,  
These ne'er rise in their stomaches, though they done't  
At all observe them, while a squeamish Sister,  
To whom the Cross, or Surplice, gives a Glister,  
It goes against their Conscience to offend  
Though oaths, subscriptions, and all bonds they rend  
In pieces quite; nay their good Dames to please,  
To all their duty give a writ of ease:  
Nor is the Country fertile soil alone  
To these ill weeds, but they have freely grown  
Within the City, for such sins of late  
God justly might lay it even desolate.  
Nor is the root of all cursed evil less  
Of growth in English ground, Covetousness:  
This sin with us hath had the greatest stroke  
In breach of both the Tables, we thus broke:  
Many make Gold their God, a silver shrine  
Is their Diana, Conscience for coin  
Is sold; Truth, Honesty, Justice, and Faith  
The greedy lust of Gain devoured hath:  
O cursed thirst for gain, what canst not thou  
Compel frail mortals sinful hearts to do:  
To swear, and lie, rebel, and murder, and  
Turn bawds, or whores, Knights of the post, or stand  
To cry, and rob, to cozen, and betray  
Their dearest friend, Church-rights to make their prey,  
For gain to prostitute wives, daughters, and  
Do any thing, they are at thy command:  
Nay some the form of godliness do make  
A cloak for cozenage, and a snare to take  
The simple buyer in: In holy guise  
Some hucksters dare of souls make merchandise;  
Who like the Pharisees pray by the hour  
Only the widow's houses to devour:  
And others will not spare an hour to pray,  
Devoted unto Mammon quite are they;  
Who now do find to leave their shops to pray,  
Had been to keep their shops the surest way:  
While Covetousness in all our hearts thus grew,  
Alas poor London! is it not too true?  
For these things we▪ and thou above the rest,  
By the just hand of God now sufferest.  
Nor let the Drunkard think he is forgot,  
His Nations slain, and his religions blot:  
Who under one Commandment alone  
Is hardly ranked, his sins 'gainst every one;  
Or doth at least betray him to commit  
The Heaven provoking sins, which violate it.  
The swinish Drunkard Bacchus doth adore:  
Who Oaths, and Curses in his mouth hath more?  
God's Service he contemns, his Sundays spends  
At some good fellowship of drunken friends:  
He little Honour, or Obedience shows  
To whom he Honour, and Obedience owes;  
Be they Parents or Priests, Prelates, or Prince;  
David the Song of Drunkards was long since:  
What brawls, contentions, murders some commit  
In drunken Revels, without fear, or wit:  
By drinking Healths, some drink away their own,  
And kill themselves, a thing not seldom known:  
Wine is they say the milk of Venus, true,  
A Drunkard not a Wencher, who ere knew?  
Nor spares he cozening, slandering, and doth covet  
More liquor still, above his Soul doth love it:  
To sins of all sorts thus he gives the reins,  
All ill with's liquor slides into his veins:  
Since now so rise is this abomination,  
Who can expect from Heaven, but desolation,  
And with the noisome Pestilence chastise  
A beastly people, who themselves disguise  
So much with drink; some their bowls tossing up,  
Found death even at the bottom of the Cup;  
When in the midst of jollity were they,  
Death brought a reckoning up and took away;  
And in this City, where this sin was common,  
A Drawer now can show a room to no man:  
Such who o'ercharged with drink too oft cast in,  
God out of house, and home hath cast for sin:  
And he hath poured that wine upon the floor,  
Which often laid the drinkers there before:  
Wine in a thousand Cellars was burnt all,  
And poured out at the City's Funeral:  
And some for loss of wine did more lament  
Than for their sins, for which our Plagues are sent:  
More of a Tavern, or Playhouse the fall  
Lament, than of a Church, or Hospital.  
Sick with this sin from head to foot hath been  
Our Nation, sick 'tis justly for this sin:  
Their Wine inflamed the Citizens before,  
Justly now fire inflamed their Wine therefore:  
As well with shame, as wine, to make these blush,  
God now in th' fire appeared in the bush:  
And for this sin God justly might, no doubt,  
Make this good Land to spew the dwellers out.  
And next to Drunkenness, now Pride may stand  
Accused as cause of all woe in this Land:  
For this the French, whose Apes in this we be,  
May justly be our scourge; the vanity  
Of varying fashions! which doth make us strange  
To such as know us, and our women change  
Their shape with each new Moon, & some do show,  
By the loose wanton garb in which they go,  
What ware they sell; and some do strive by paint,  
To make the ugly Devil seem a Saint:  
Some have their faces with black Patches dressed,  
As thinking dapled Ladies will sell best:  
Methinks it seems as if some Fiend did place  
The print of Hell burnt fingers on their face:  
Born with such spots should you your children see,  
You'd call't no beauty, but deformity:  
God now sends spots, as he would theirs deride,  
And note to all, that theirs is plaguy Pride:  
And now adays, because within there rests  
So little Virtue in most women's breasts,  
(Which of old won them Husbands, that would give  
Dowries to get a virtuous Wife to live  
With them, as helps most meet, and comforts sure,  
Friends in both fortunes till death to endure▪)  
Naked they expose them to youthful eyes,  
Hoping, if not true Love, yet Lust may rise  
At such a sight; and seizing on the heart  
Betray it unto them, and the fond smart  
Of Cupid's flames, while these do now deny  
What they would fainest grant, and only try,  
By sprinkling water to increase the fire,  
By their denial to augment desire:  
Thus hunt they for their dear, and use some wile  
To bring the simple heart within their toil▪  
Virtue can only it a subject make;  
Beauty a wand'ring heart may captive take:  
And now our Lady's vanity, and pride,  
And their neglect of Housewifery beside,  
Affright all sober men, who fear to woe,  
Lest they should court their woe in doing so;  
Or with their wives will now some thousands have  
To keep them in the fashion fine, and brave.  
What a fine life our Gallants live? and yet  
'Twere fine indeed, if 'twere the way to get  
To Heaven, and its immortal happiness;  
But they're beside the way I more than guess;  
Whose days, and years are always vainly spent  
In Dressing, Mistressing, and Compliment;  
Who rise, and dress by noon, come down and dine,  
Then to a Play, thence to the House of wine,  
And so to bed, it may be drunk before;  
Perhaps all night embracing of an whore:  
If these be Christians, where's their Master's badge,  
The Cross, and Self-denial? they can't fadge  
With these; If such go hence to glory,  
Hell, and the Devil sure are but a story:  
The way to Heaven is broadest sure, if they  
Who wander thus, can thither find the way:  
Pride doth usurp on God, provoke him thus  
To plague us for't, that he might humble us:  
And that proud City, which lift up her hand  
Above the rest in pride, full low is laid:  
The parent, nurse, spring, stage, of pride, and vain  
Fashions, and tricks, which our Religion stain.  
And whose proud Dames out-vied in garishness,  
Our modest Ladies in their Country dress.  
To all these sins, wherewith this sinful Land  
Before the Lord of Heaven doth guilty stand,  
May many aggravations urged be,  
From Gospel light, whereby men clearly see  
The evil of these evils, yet do they  
The works of darkness in the brightest day;  
From great Ingratitude so plainly shown,  
When God miraculously poured down  
Incomparable mercies on us; those,  
Who late oppressed under their cruel foes,  
Could own their sins the cause of all their woes,  
Now freed from these, return again to those:  
A King, a Parliament, a Church regained  
Peace, Liberty, Religion maintained,  
Some desperate God-dammes do begin  
To war with Heaven by their Gigantine sin:  
The roaring blades aloud do quickly call  
For thundering Vengeance on their heads to fall:  
When health, and plenty, joy, and triumph, crowned  
Our Land, our heinous sins apace abound:  
Swearing, Carousing, Cheating, Bribery,  
Oppression, Sacrilege, and Simony,  
Pride, lust, and all the rout of sins o'errun  
Our Country, so our joy, and triumphs done:  
We first forsook the God of mercies, and  
God makes his mercies to forsake our Land;  
And now to mercy judgement doth succeed;  
We surfeited, and God doth make us bleed:  
Abundance of corruption sickness brings;  
And heat of lust hath fired our pleasant things:  
Yet under all these Judgements are we still  
Incorrigible, and perverse in ill:  
God may say, I have sent the Pestilence,  
That I might bring you to an humble sense  
Of sin: your young men with the Sword I slew:  
Your City I as Sodom overthrew:  
Yet have ye not returned unto me;  
Therefore yet seven times more I'll punish ye:  
And thus of all our woes we see the cause  
Transgression is against God's holy Laws:  
A Gospel unbecoming Conversation  
Provoketh God thus to afflict our Nation:  
And in the ripping up our sins to see  
The root, and spring of all our misery,  
I would not have men think, to any one  
Or sin, or party, I impute alone  
Our woes, and judgements, but to one, and tother,  
To all, and every one, I would not smother  
My own, or Friends, but do desire that all  
Would think for their sins these things us befall  
And each apply the Plaster to his wound,  
Which healing every one will make all sound:  
Nor need we doubt to have a perfect Cure  
If all will but the Remedy endure:  
Which now I shall consider of, and try,  
For all these woes to find a remedy.   

The Cure.  
ANd 'tis half wrought already, since we see  
The inward cause of our sad malady:  
Now to remove the cause is the most sure  
Way to effect a safe and speedy cure:  
And had I but good Patients, than I might  
Promise a cure, and lose no credit by't:  
But I must first the Patient's court, to let  
The Physic be applied, for they as yet,  
How sick soever, scorn our Ministry,  
Who would the healing Remedies apply:  
In bodily Diseases they will high  
Them quickly to Physicians, lest they die,  
Send, pray, and pay, take what's prescribed, endure  
All pains, and tortures, for a speedy cure:  
But in their Soul distempers will not give  
An ear to sound advice, nor seek to live:  
And when we freely offer, do disgust  
Our wholesome Physic, such needs perish must:  
Is Earth less worth than Heaven? or is the Soul  
Less to be valued than the Body soul?  
No reason can you thus preposterous make;  
We keep the Casket for the Jewels sake:  
Or if this transitory life now is  
In more esteem than heavens immortal bliss,  
Yet take our counsel, and our medicines, seeing  
They're for the welfare of your present being:  
Receive, apply, and let them work, they health,  
Temporal, and eternal peace, and wealth  
Do bring: And now these Remedies so rare  
Repentance, Faith, and true Obedience are:  
Repentance takes away the cause of woe,  
Faith reconciles us unto God, and so  
Future Obedience will our bliss secure,  
From age to age for ever to endure.  
Go mourning, and hold up your guilty hand  
Before God's bar, there self-condemned stand;  
The way here to be saved is to confess,  
Your sins cloak not, excuse not, nor make less;  
But aggravate them all, mercy implore,  
From him who keepeth mercy still in store  
For penitent offenders, ever will  
Exalt the humble, and the mournful fill  
With Oil of gladness, never will despise,  
But with delight accepts the Sacrifice  
Of broken-hearts, and binds them up and heals  
The wounded Spirit, which compunction feels:  
Before God's footstool therefore prostrate lie,  
Cry guilty Lord, confess, or else you die:  
Judge, and condemn yourselves, if you would save  
Yourselves, with God such only pardon have.  
Relent, repent, reform, and throughly purge  
Away your sins, and God will take his scourge,  
And Plague away, with him make but your peace,  
And he will make your Wars with men to cease,  
Or us Victor; quench but the flames of lust,  
And he will raise the City from the dust.  
That kindled first Gods wrath, and this the flame  
Which sited the City of so ancient fame:  
For this bow down before God's Throne, and kneel,  
This fire might melt you, if you were all steel,  
Into some godly sorrow; lie as low  
As doth your City, and bemoan your woe.  
Repent in dust, and ashes, as that lies,  
And God will make it Phoenix like to rise  
From Funeral ashes, London then shall ye  
More glorious in its Resurrection see:  
Might this fire be the City's Purgatory,  
God would restore it with far greater glory:  
Thus if Repentance make our peace with God,  
We may believe he'll throw away his Rod:  
Without Repencance Faith presumption is,  
And finds no mercy; but when mixed with this  
It never fails to find, and sure ground hath  
For hope, and trust, and then indeed 'tis faith:  
If we repent, it's the Condition still  
Employed in every Promise, that God will  
Prevent, or take away his Judgements, but  
Th' impenitent the door of mercy shut  
Against themselves, and lock themselves in woe,  
Keep then your sorrows, or your sins forgo:  
But if we do repent, we then may trust,  
God will forgive us because he is just:  
Then pray in faith, with hearty Supplication,  
That God would pardon this our sinful Nation,  
Remove his heavy hand, send peace and health,  
Repair our ruins, and restore our wealth.  
Go sin no more, but henceforth him obey,  
So shall our Kingdom flourish, and all they  
Who seek its ruin shall confounded be,  
And snared in their subtle iniquity:  
No force, nor fraud shall hurt a righteous Cause,  
Managed by such as keep th' Almighty's Laws:  
But we oft see the juster cause o'erthrown  
In sinners hands, who hardly God will own,  
The stronger party to the weak a prey,  
When they will not the Lord of Hosts obey.  
If God be for us, who can us defeat?  
If he against us, where shall we retreat  
For refuge? If we him against us arm  
Whom all the creatures serve, what cannot harm  
And ruin us? The Angels take Gods pay,  
And one of them a mighty Host can slay:  
The Stars in their swift course do slyly fight  
God's battles against sinner's day, and night:  
Clouds are his Canons, swift destruction fling  
By Thunder, and their Lightnings vengeance bring  
By fire on sinful mortals: and the wind  
Brings on its wings oft ruin to mankind:  
The calmer air convey the Pestilence,  
Whereby death steals into us without sense:  
The Earth is iron, and the heavens are brass,  
When threatened Famine God will bring to pass!  
Earth once did open, and take Rebels in  
Alive, as if it could not bear that sin:  
The Seas do pass their bounds, and us o'erflow  
With mischief, when God bids them further go:  
Frogs, Locusts, Caterpillars, creeping things,  
Will take the Palaces of mighty Kings  
When God doth arm them, and their persons seize,  
And in a Land devour all (when God doth please)  
That's fair, and fruitful: Even our breath infects,  
Our very dust turns Lice, or some Infects  
To infest sinful men; A Fly 'tis spoke  
Ventured a Pope infallibly to choke:  
Could he Souls out of Purgatory vote,  
And yet not keep a Fly out of his throat?  
But thus we see, when God gives them Commission,  
The feeblest Creatures give us expedition  
Into another world: who God not fears  
Hath all the world in Arms about his ears:  
While Man his Maker serves, he's Lord of these;  
But when he sins they are his Enemies:  
When we provoke our God, where e'er we go,  
Each creature looks upon us as a foe:  
God will protect, and bless his servants, but  
They who rebel, no confidence can put  
In him: Since to believe, and not obey,  
Self flattery is no faith, henceforth I pray,  
Le's lay the sure foundation of our trust,  
In purposes to keep his Laws most just:  
Then may we trust he will our Plagues remove,  
And shower down blessings on us from above:  
When we do purpose to endeavour, and  
Do strive to purpose to keep his command:  
Begin a new course then, and never cease  
To walk in God's ways, for his ways are peace,  
And pleasantness, to bear Christ's yoke delight;  
His yoke is easy, and his burden light:  
To sin is no light thing, did it not press  
Legions of Angels to the bottomless  
Infernal pit from highest glory? hath  
Not man by weight of sin been pressed to death?  
Look upon worldly wealth, and count it dross;  
Deny yourselves, take up your Saviour's Cross;  
The world's crown hath its cross, his cross a Crown,  
Her smiles betray, more safety in her frown.  
Give unto Caesar, and to God their due.  
Fear God honour the King, to both be true:  
Since God is one, so let your heart be, and  
Serve him with one heart after his command.  
Think not your wit a better way can find  
To worship God, than what is his own mind:  
Take not his Sacred Name in vain, nor swear  
Profanely, but with reverence, and fear  
Mention Gods holy Name, in Justice, Truth,  
And Judgement, when called to it, take an Oath.  
Observe the holy Times, grudge not to spare  
Some time each day for holy thoughts, and prayer;  
But on the days to worship consecrate,  
Divide not betwixt God, and Mammon, hate  
To rob God, and your Souls, be wholly given  
To holy Service, grudge not one in seven  
To him that made them all, nor yet refuse  
The Churches holy days, as such to use:  
Nor count to pray scarce worth your coming there,  
Since God doth style his House, the house of Prayer.  
Honour your Parents of all sorts, and show  
To Prince, and Priest the reverence that you owe:  
Their nakedness when spied lament, and bide;  
And not like Cham discover, and deride.  
Hate not your brother, have no murderous thought:  
Remember what dire Vengeance murder brought  
On Cain, and under no pretence be killing;  
Religion cannot justify blood-spilling.  
Make clean your hearts, and keep your bodies free  
From Fornication, and Adultery:  
They are the Temples of the Lord, be sure  
The holy Spirit hath a mansion pure  
In you; That Dove likes not a cage unclean:  
You'll be th' unclean Spirits den, if obscene.  
Be just, and honest, and do no man wrong,  
Nor cheat, and cousin with a double tongue;  
Ill gotten goods do not increase your wealth,  
But are the rust, that wastes by secret stealth:  
Think not you gain, when you a curse do get,  
This is a Canker, and will surely fret.  
Accuse thou no man falsely, nor defame  
Thy neighbour, tender as thine own, his Name:  
The Angel durst not on the Devil rail;  
And shall we call them Saints, who do not fail  
Prince, Prelates, Priests, & all their friends to slander;  
Nor spare the Church their Mother, but will brand  
With Calumnies, their Schism to justify:  
Bad is the Cause sure, which doth need a lie  
For its support; and shall they not be had  
In more esteem, whom foes by lies make bad?  
Father of lies the Devil's rightly styled;  
And he who like him is, is his own child:  
His own brood then are sure the Sectaries,  
Whose constant Trade is to be telling lies:  
Truth unto every one, or friend, or foe,  
In Justice, and in Charity we owe.  
Accuse not God as the Heretic doth,  
Who broaches his own Error, for God's Truth.  
Beware of Covetousness the root of Evil!  
Mammon of all the swarms, the Master Devil:  
Love not the world, nor sell thy Soul for coin;  
Thy Soul's a richer Jewel, than doth shine  
In this inferior Orb, keep that, and quit  
Thy wealth, wealth's of no worth and price to it.  
Love God, thy Soul, thy Friend, covet more grace;  
And care to see in Heaven thy Saviour's face.  
Leave Drunkenness, and lewd debauchery,  
Your Nations, and Religion's infamy,  
Your souls, and body's ruin, family's bane,  
Estates consumption, only Devils gain:  
God made you Man, make not yourself a Beast;  
Drink of its Reason will your mind divest:  
Drink to refreshment, not to sottishness;  
By healths to lose your own is ●o●●ishness;  
Stay at the third glass, keeping still the round  
Doth often spill the drinkers on the ground:  
Custom, continuance makes the Wine inflame,  
Then in thy Face beholders see thy shame.  
Leave foolish Pride, and garish vanity,  
And clothe yourselves with neat Humility:  
Meekness, and Grace, with neatness more adorn,  
Than all the foolish Fashions which are worn.  
Let not Gods Mercies be by us neglected;  
Nor all his Judgements leave us uncorrected:  
His showers of Blessings be more fruitful under,  
And let his hammering Judgements break asunder  
Your rocky Hearts, the means of Grace regard;  
Walk in the Light, and Light shall you reward,  
Light of God's countenance in heavenly bliss  
Where neither Fire, nor War, nor Sickness is:  
Nay did we thus, I doubt not God would send  
Us here Peace, Health, and Joy, our Times amend:  
And with our former blessings prosper us,  
For the days wherein we're afflicted thus:  
Which that our God, and Saviour quickly may;  
Let us repent, return, and humbly pray.  
Deo gloria in excelsis.  
FINIS.   
* PSAL. 118.6, 7, 10. 
6. The Lord is on my side, I will not fesr what man can do unto me.  
7. The Lord taketh my part with them that help me, therefore shall I see my desire upon them that hate me.  
10. All Nations compassed me about, but in the Name of the Lord will I destroy them.  PSAL. 91. 
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the Fowler and from the noisome Pestilence.  
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust, his truth shall be thy shield and buckler, etc.  
Thou shalt not be afraid of the terror be night, nor for the Arrow that flieth by day.  
Nor for the Pestilence which walketh in darkness, nor for the Destruction which wasteth at noon day.  
A Thousand shall fall at thy side, and Ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.  JER. 30. 
18. Thus saith the Lord, Behold! I will bring again the Captivity of jacob's Tents, and have mercy on his dwelling places, and the City shall be builded upon her own heap, and the Palace shall remain after the manner thereof.  
19 And out of them shall proceed Thanksgiving, and the voice of them that make merry, and I will multiply them, etc. I will also glorify them, etc.  
20. Their Children also shall be as afore-time, etc.  
And I will punish all them that oppress them, etc.   

A Cordial to Cheer our Spirits under our Calamities *.  

(1.)  
WHen force of Physic quite hath put to rout,  
The noxious humours did within us reign,  
The vital Spirits almost tired out  
By the long conflict which they did maintain;  
The wise Physician doth some Cordial give  
The Patients fainting Spirits to revive.   

(2.)  
Thus when by mournful conflicts we have won  
The day of sin, and hope our woes do sly:  
Lest timorous hearts into despair do run,  
And when the cure is wrought begin to die;  
'Tis not amiss to give some Consolation  
To cheer the Spirit of an humbled Nation.   

(3.)  
And if indeed the mighty Hand of God  
Hath duly humbled us, we need not fear,  
We once corrected, he'll reject the Rod;  
And from our mournful eyes wipe every tear;  
His face on us shall shine, frown on our foes,  
And from our Land to theirs transmit our woes.   

(4.)  
Cheer up brave English, fear no foe but sin!  
Though the ingrateful Dutch, and Dane combine,  
And proud French bustle, these shall nothing win,  
But shame, and slaughter from God's hand, and thine  
Thy thundering Guns shall shake the Belgic shore,  
Their Lion 
(a) The Arms of Holland.  couch, when ours do rouse & roar.   

(5.)  
Their Lion once was a poor sneaking Cur  
Broke from Spain's Castle 
(b) The Arms of Spain, from whom the Netherlands revolting, were aided by Queen Elizabeth. , crouched to us, to gain  
Our aid, in which had we but made demur,  
He soon had been remanded to his chain.  
We succoured him until he freedom knew,  
Shook chain, and Master 
(c) King of Spain.  off, and Rampant grew.   

(6.)  
The poor Distressed States came Suppliants then,  
Now, High and Mighty grown, they have forgot,  
Whose blood and treasure helped to make them men,  
'Twas the brave English, Holland was it not?  
Methinks while lives the noble name of Vere,  
The Dutch should blush 'gainst England to appear.   

(7.)  
The valiant Acts of the brave Veres for these,  
A second Caesar's Commentaries make,  
Which whosoever surveys, from thence with ease  
The height of Dutch ingratitude may take,  
Who by our Armies raised to their height,  
To do us mischief, still employ their might.   

(8.)  
And who may trust a Rebel, or expect  
To find a Traitor prove a faithful Friend,  
Who violate Allegiance, will neglect  
All Articles with others for their end:  
We hatched them, thinking we should find a Dove,  
Come forth, and lo! it doth a Serpent prove.   

(9)  
Like Serpents of a viprous brood, which strive  
To kill the Parent gave them life, and growth;  
These who by our Protection first did thrive,  
To let us live by whom they live are loath:  
But now we shall, if Stars speak right their fates,  
Bring down the Mighty to Distressed States.   

(10.)  
So do our Magis read in heavens bright Book,  
(God grant who rules the Stars, they may not err,)  
The shaggy Comets have their mischief shook  
On us, now will as much to them transferr:  
Heaven hath, and will still take our part no doubt,  
Th' Almighty can the high and mighty rout.   

(11.)  
Just are thy ways O God, thy Judgements right,  
But we to thee, our foes to us ingrate,  
Therefore at Land thou justly us do smite,  
And them for us at Sea dost dissipate:  
We humbled under thy correcting power,  
Them thou wilt quickly humble under our.   

(12.)  
Thrice have the vaunting Belgians come to show  
Their numerous Navy, by constraint did fight;  
Thrice have the braver English made them know,  
Their safety's best pursued by hasty slight:  
Twice their expecting people saw them come  
As pray before the English hunted home.   

(13.)  
Once when unlucky shot disabled quite  
Our Generals Ships that they could not pursue,  
They getting home, bragged they beat us outright,  
But to get home with them is to subdue:  
And a Thanksgiving wisely they observed,  
For that so many of them were preserved.   

(14.)  
But stay my Muse! and on the peaceful shore  
Behold the martial combats on the Seas,  
Such as no age ere veiwed heretofore,  
Nor will succeeding times see after these:  
Where God pays home ingratitude and pride;  
Giving the Conquest to our juster side.   

(15.)  
His Royal Highness first in Person goes,  
With him the brave Prince Rupert, each of these  
More worth than all the Navy of our foes,  
Whom the bold Opdam did not doubt to seize:  
With what odds fought we them? if richest prize  
Can whet the Valour of our Enemies.   

(16.)  
The Fleets engaged 
(d) The first sight with the Dutch.  and a fierce conflict grew,  
The clouds of smoke obscured the midday Sun,  
From thundering Canons storms of bullets flew  
Driving out souls, while streams of blood do run  
From shattered bodies, as sometimes you shall  
In sudden showers see rain from houses fall.   

(17.)  
The frighted Sun himself i'th' smoke doth shroud,  
And threatens night so soon as day's begun;  
To do his office, from no thundering cloud  
Lightning breaks forth, but from the louder Gun:  
When peaceful Heaven denies its purer light  
To mortals rage, by their own fire they fight.   

(18.)  
Forth from the deadly Engines sirie womb  
The sp'rit'ous Peter bursting rends the skies,  
And flaming Sulphur raises foaming scum  
In boiling Seas, the fish in water fries;  
The Earth receiving the report doth quake,  
But all this cannot English spirits shake.   

(19)  
No wonder they did Deisie of old  
Their valiant Heroes, who undaunted run  
Into the arms of Death, resolved, and bold,  
For Fame, and Honour, they no peril shun,  
But dangers which all others dread defy;  
A noble soul's a kind of Deity.   

(20.)  
But if these Heroes had so great renown,  
Who stood in noiseless war, pecking out life  
With flying Arrows, hewing bodies down  
With Swords, to let out souls; a sporting strife:  
What honours due to him who never shuns  
The deaths which flies so thick from roaring Guns?   

(21.)  
Guns, whose report strikes fearful hearts with death,  
And more with terror than with blows do slay,  
Whose wind doth snatch from untouched men their breath,  
And passing by can whistle souls away:  
Here cowards hearts dead in their breasts are found,  
Though coming off at last without a wound.   

(22.)  
Guns whose loud thunder shakes the world's huge frame  
Into convulsive fits, and seems to threat  
A sudden dissolution of the same,  
Before the wise Creator thinks it fit:  
Yet among these our Worthies boldly stand  
With hearts unshaken, shaking death by th' hand.   

(23.)  
Neptune roused with their noise comes up to see,  
What on the surface of his Kingdom's done,  
Rising, he shakes his head to see that he  
Cannot be Master of the Seas alone:  
But that two daring Fleets are sighting for't  
Without Commission from his watery Court.   

(24.)  
He looks upon them, and the Dutch he knows,  
Their Land was stolen from him, & all their wealth  
His Tides bring in; if nurselings proves his foes,  
He will recover what they got by stealth:  
He fears them not, though valiant in a cup,  
He thinks they cannot drink the Ocean up.   

(25.)  
But on the English casts a jealous eye,  
Seeing them mantled all in fire, and smoke,  
He fears they will with him for Empire vie,  
Gazing a while, deep silence thus he broke:  
What mean these daring mortals? who are these  
Without my leave thus Lord it on the Seas?   

(26.)  
He spies the Duke 
(e) Duke of York.  and fears that Mars is come  
To ravish Thetis, and to rule at Sea  
Yet thinks he, I will send him whistling home,  
And therefore bids the winds to come away:  
But drawing nearer he beheld the Prince 
(f) Duke of York. .  
And his mistake, with a far kinder sense.   

(27.)  
He smooths his ruffled brow, and calms the air,  
Comes mildly on, doth thus the Duke salute;  
Accept this Trident O thou fiercely fair,  
And rule at Sea, see it is Neptune's suit:  
Let all the winds serve thy design, and show  
To thee, what reverence to me they owe.   

(28.)  
Where e'er my Tridents known, or rule extends,  
From Sea to Sea, where e'er my tides do flow,  
And to each River which his tribute sends  
To me, do thou a Conqueror still go!  
Ride Sir in Triumph on the Ocean wide  
And tame these Hogen Mogens swelling pride.   

(29.)  
He said, and on his Sea-green Couch sits down  
To see the issue of the kindling sight:  
By this his Highness hot, and eager grown,  
Diffuses valour as the Sun doth light,  
Till by his rays the English all on fire,  
Make the Dutch Valour soon like smoke expire.   

(30.)  
They fire at greatest distance, and the air  
Not us they beat, and make the water fly,  
They hope the noise us a far off will scare,  
For they much fear that we will come too nigh:  
But ours bear bravely up, nor spent a shot  
Till almost certain that they lose it not.   

(31.)  
Now near enough, discharged Canons send  
Pluto a present of Dutch souls, who take  
A sudden leave of sprangling corpse, and wend  
To lower shades over the Stygian lake:  
Who came in hopes as high as Ships on float,  
Now sail to their long home in Charon's Boat.   

(32.)  
When our brave Admiral on lofty deck  
Stands brandishing his Sword, confronting death,  
Whose influence to fear in all gives check,  
And inspires valiant heat by his warm breath.  
Whom as a noble prey Opdam espies,  
And with a daring fierceness at him flies.   

(33.)  
Him others follow, all the Duke engage,  
Who life to his, and death to their men throws  
From martial brows, which with a smiling rage  
Strike awful love into his very foes.  
Put five 
(g) Five of their Ships set upon the Duke's at once.  to one is odds, yet so he shows  
His presence countervaileth four of those.   

(34.)  
Smith saw the unequal combat, and strait flew  
With wind filled canvas wings the Duke to shield,  
Himself between the Duke, and Dutch he threw,  
Nor gives them time to choose, die, fly, or yield:  
One broad side given unto Opdam blows  
Him up, and blew away the other foes.   

(35.)  
Now bragging Opdam (set in Chair of State  
As still alive (though killed before some say)  
With cozening show his men to animate)  
Sinks down in Triumph, leading more the way  
To Styx and Acheron, where such as shall  
Descend, will find him Pluto's Admiral.   

(36.)  
Mean while Prince Rupert doth like lightning fall  
Among the scattered Squadrons of the Dutch,  
Where he finds none, makes way like Hannibal,  
Who many fights have seen, saw never such:  
With murdering broadsides opening passage wide:  
His dreadful Frigate through them doth glide.   

(37)  
Passing, on either side he shares his shot,  
To which Dutch Hulls so weak resistance make,  
That speedy death enters at every plot,  
And sinking ships a shrieking farewell take,  
And shivered splinters from torn planks that fly  
To many deaths make one shot multiply.   

(83.)  
Through, he tacks about, and soon returns,  
And from loud Guns repeats the doom of wounds,  
And death to them, some sinks, some taketh, some burns,  
And hundreds makes fall into lasting swoons:  
While his besieged battered Pinnace stood  
A floating Castle in a Sea of blood.   

(39)  
Experience now doth give a just allay  
To his high metal, both in him do meet  
So duly tempered, that he justly may  
Led a Land Army, or conduct a Fleet:  
In Conduct wary, and in Counsel grave,  
In Courage fiery, and in Conquest brave.   

(40.)  
Here gallant Holms too, bold defiance gave  
To Trump, and all his fury, whom he made  
‛ Twice quit his sinking ship his life to save,  
Who in a Boat got home at last, 'tis said:  
Where landing, if the women could have catched him,  
For slaughtered sons, and husbands they'd have scratched him.   

(41.)  
Now all this time the echoing air resounds,  
The noise of war to many aching hearts  
On trembling Holland, and on English grounds,  
Each wound in sympathising bosoms smarts:  
But now the routed Dutch invoke the winds,  
Hoist all their sails too slack for flying minds.   

(42.)  
All steer for nearest Ports where their folk stand  
Expecting them laden with spoils to come;  
But see them with stretched Canvas fly to Land,  
And the pursuing English drive them home.  
Whose guns, and shouts strengthening the winds the more,  
Hast fleeing Belgians to their wished for shore.   

(43.)  
Got into Harbour, there they skulking lie,  
By our Triumphant daring Navy awed:  
So creeps the timorous Hare to some wood by,  
And squatted lies, hearing the Hounds abroad:  
From smitten breasts now doleful cries rebound,  
For sons, and husbands not returned found.   

(44.)  
Mean while our crowded shore with shouts doth ring  
Of joyful people, which with longing eye  
Behold the Vessels that doth tidings bring,  
And Colours 
(h) Colours taken from the Dutch ships ours took, and sent up to the King, showed in the Countries they went.  Trophies of our Victory:  
And conquering Frigates bringing home their prize,  
Make thundering Guns shake th' earth, and rend the skies.   

(45.)  
Whose kind salute our watchful Forts return  
With as loud welcome, and the watery store,  
Proud of the Worthies on its waves are born,  
Curvets, and foams, and gallops to the shore:  
Where landed Captives, and the taken prize  
Do take our hearts, and captivate our eyes.   

(46.)  
Now see the fruit of pious management  
Of war, and all affairs, we kept a Fast  
Before the fight, and Heaven success hath sent,  
Who sow in tears shall reap in joy at last:  
Le's owe our glory to Humiliation;  
For humble Penitence exalts a Nation.   

(47.)  
What Prayers got, let praises give to God;  
Who in the first Engagement turned the wind  
To favour us, and be to them a Rod  
With smoke repelled to lash them almost blind:  
Nor will our giving God the greatest glory  
At all eclipse man's honour in the story.   

(48.)  
In giving Thanks, we do but sow the seeds  
Of future blessings, and lay up in store  
That which in time a fruitful harvest breeds;  
And praise for what heaven gives, bespeaks for more.  
Thus do Thanks-givings Victories obtain,  
And Conquests make Thanks-giving-days again.   

(49.)  
Now bragging Holland saw they could not beat  
The English by their single strength alone,  
From France, and Denmark they seek aid to get,  
So hope to match us, being three to one:  
We dread them not, our trust in God shall be,  
There's three in one can make our own beat three.   

(50.)  
Our King, and Loyal hearts no help require  
From such confederates, our Cause is good,  
And God will blast our foes designs, as fire  
Consumes with sudden blaze the thorny wood.  
Though Nations compass us about, we shall  
In God's great Name, we trust, destroy them all.   

(51.)  
The faithless Dane first offered friendship here;  
And during Treaty tempts us to his Port 
(i) Bergh●n business.   
To seize the Belg'ans Indies anchored there,  
A Squadron under Tyddiman go for't:  
And under sail to Berghen by the way  
Each Sea man's mind is laden with his prey.   

(52.)  
Arrived they see enclosed in Rocks their prize,  
First Clifford lands the Governor to treat,  
Who knowledge of his Master's 
(k) The King of Denmark who proffered our King that his ships might take any Dutch ships in his harbours, and the Prize to be divided betwixt them.  will denies,  
Bribed by the Dutch, he means both Kings to cheat:  
Yet bears us fair in hand if once he knows  
His Prince's will, he our design allows.   

(53.)  
Mean while he lets the Belgians plant on shore  
Their battering Canons to defend their wealth,  
And from his Castle murdering pieces roar,  
Fired by the Dutch, he saith, got in by stealth:  
Thus basely dealt with, the bold English fall  
Pell, mell to batter Castle, Town, and all.   

(54)  
Enraged to see themselves thus Tantalise,  
They seek to sink what's past their power to gain  
One on a Bed of Spices sweetly dies,  
Others by broken Diamonds are slain.  
Rich Odours fired in Ships now cloud the skies,  
As Incense doth from kindled Censors rise.   

(55.)  
But this did not appease incensed minds,  
Our battering balls now shatter houses down,  
Now through Castle-wals death entrance finds,  
And folk now fear the Sea will take the Town,  
What will not English spirits bravely dare  
To do? for Ships to storm a Castle's rare.   

(56.)  
By this the Governor seems to relent,  
Desires to treat again, pretending now  
Th' Agreement made betwixt the King is sent,  
The order owns, he first did disavow,  
That what we in their Harbours take shall be  
Betwixt the Kings divided equally.   

(57)  
Now he invites ours to a fresh attempt,  
But limited with terms to frustrate it,  
They saw his proffers did success exempt,  
And wisely thought a new assault not sit:  
Till they returned, he would secure the prey  
He promised, they hoist sail, and come away.   

(58.)  
Now whether Denmark's King new counsels took,  
Or Berghens Governor his faith did sell,  
Few day's expired ere the Dutch forsook  
The Harbour uncontrolled, but a storm fell;  
Whereby just Heaven seeing our wrong did bring,  
Part of the prize we fought for to our King.   

(59)  
Nor shall perfidious Denmark lose his due,  
Heaven will his kindness unto us repay,  
And he his double dealing erst shall rue,  
When England shall of Holland win the day:  
And then have leisure to remember friends,  
Whose proffered leagues but serve their treacherous ends.   

(60.)  
Mean time the slighted Swede may check the Dane,  
And balance him on the divided Sound;  
Or ancient fame of Swedish valour gain  
By flowing Conquests on the Danish ground:  
Whom he may soon in field subdue, and then  
In Coppenhagen block him up again.   

(61.)  
Nor wish we Munster's Bishop better fate,  
Who got our coin, and left us in the lurch,  
By whose deceit we costly learn too late,  
The Germane faith is not in Roman Church:  
Which keeps no faith with Heretics we know,  
But did forget that they do count us so.   

(62.)  
Holland of France expects a kind Protector,  
'Tis envy, and not love that makes him such,  
I doubt he'll rather prove a sly projector,  
And only help that he may rule the Dutch:  
So once the Saxons did the Britain's aid,  
Until this Kingdom for their service paid.   

(63.)  
What ruffling France for Holland means to do,  
Two Summers hence they possibly shall know,  
The last they complemented to and fro,  
This their fine Fleet abroad shall fairly show:  
The third he may to show his horns begin,  
But if a storm comes wisely draw them in.   

(64.)  
Yet proud France blusters with his Men, and Arms  
As if he'd win the world, and great plots lays  
For some Invasion, but no Land he harms,  
His mind on Holland, not on England preys:  
The Sea's an Hill 
(l) According to the common opinion that the waters are higher than the Earth, and lie upon and heap at Sea.  his Forty Thousand men  
May bravely sail up, and go down again.   

(65.)  
Le Roche can tell 'tis a design more meet  
For Courtly French to man a Lady home,  
Than warlike English on the Seas to greet  
From whose salute doth greater mischief come.  
If first he had not carried home their Queen,  
France's tall ships Portugal ne'er had seen.   

(66.)  
Yet he with promises doth Holland feed  
Of great assistance which he still delays,  
Those haughtiness in Belgian spirits breed,  
But this their expectation still betrays:  
The greatest kindness he hath done them yet,  
Was by the show he made to part our Fleet.   

(67.)  
Unhappy parting when Prince Rupert went  
To seek the French, noised to be put to Sea,  
Their joining with the Belgians to prevent,  
Which the Dutch hearing came out presently:  
Whom Albemarle's great Duke 
(m) The second sight with the Dutch, in the beginning of June this last Summer, when Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle went General● by joint Commission.  engaged alone,  
Though they in numbers were near three to one.   

(68)  
Their numerous Navy he no sooner spies,  
Which on the Ocean like a City shows,  
But he with Canvas wings to battle flies,  
Whose Fleet looks like an Hamlet to his foes:  
More great in mind, in power less by far,  
He hurls himself into unequal war.   

(69.)  
His Captains all bear bravely up, and fear  
No perils where this Gen'ral leads them on,  
Dangers with him like shadows do appear,  
Which where bright Phoebus sheds his rays are gone:  
The name of Monk was dreadful still among  
Remembering Dutch, his Name's a Squadron strong.   

(70.)  
The Fleets engage 
(n) The first days fight. , and they in numbers bold,  
And ours in spirit, now the fight grows warm,  
Our snugging Frigates do their sides unfold,  
And theirs more lofty built our rigging harm:  
We plied them thick, & made their fleet more thin,  
Each Ship its own way opened to get in.   

(71)  
Among their multitude unseen ours lie,  
Like straggling Hunters beating in a spring,  
Until the hollowing Guns do signify  
To partner Ships their place; these answering:  
Then through the Dutch they cut their passage free,  
And let in light; thus one another see.   

(72.)  
Long time our few their many counterpoise,  
The English Valour holds the balance even,  
If either, the Dutch scale did seem to rise,  
And the advantage to our side was given:  
But envious night her sable mantle spread,  
And from our force glad Belgians covered.   

(73.)  
The weary Seamen lay them down to rest  
To fresh their spirits for a fiercer fight;  
Victorious dreams 
(o) The second days fight.  the English minds possessed,  
And black Ideas did the Dutch affright:  
Those dream of flying Dutch, start up, and shout  
These startle up to run as put to rout.   

(74.)  
Aurora drew her curtains, and did peep  
Forth from her Eastern bed, and scatter light,  
Our eager Soldiers shook of idle sleep,  
And theirs arose with early minds for flight:  
With wishing heart each homewards casts his eye,  
And Vessels coming from their Coast doth spy.   

(75.)  
Which brought a fresh supply of sixteen Sail,  
These raised their fallen spirits up anew:  
Ours heard their shout, and saw: their hearts might fail,  
If ought the English Spirit could subdue:  
Whose strength's their courage, doubling this they vie  
Th' increasing number of their foes supply.   

(76.)  
Our little Fleet was lesser grown by war;  
A little from a little's quickly missed:  
Their multitude did many better spare:  
Yet all discouragements our still resist:  
With such a General they scorn to fear,  
Who doth the prize of conquered Nations wear.   

(77.)  
The Noble Duke, what e'er his heart revolves,  
With smiling aspect cheers his pensive men,  
And fills their anxious hearts with brave resolves;  
To new assault he fiercely leads them then:  
Long time with even success the fight maintained,  
No Conquest ever greater honour gained.   

(78.)  
Another new supply 
(p) On Saturday even.  augments their store,  
And so the strongest strength increasing get;  
While our disabled Ships sent off to shore,  
Unto the weaker adds more weakness yet:  
But Day these conflicts weary to behold,  
Gave leave to Night her Sables to unfold.   

(78.)  
The careful Duke commands his men to 
(q) The third day.  rest,  
Himself on reeling Deck doth watchful stand,  
A thousand thoughts perplex his anxious breast  
No gale of hopes his fervent spirit fanned:  
Yet he resolves no English shore to touch,  
Unless he's Victor o'er the vaunting Dutch.   

(80.)  
The rising Sun now gilds the Eastern sky,  
Both Fleets prepare the quarrel to decide,  
Victory thus far evenly poised did lie,  
But now inclined to their stronger side:  
Yet are not ours o'ercome when they pursue,  
But to the flying still the honour's due.   

(81.)  
Oppressed with number mightiest Spirits yield,  
When Force, and Ammunition both do fail,  
The truest Valour wisely quits the Field,  
Thus wants, and weakness, not the Dutch, prevail,  
Make our unwilling General retreat,  
Who yet in this doth still his foes defeat.   

(82.)  
In such triumphant order he retires  
As above former Victories doth raise  
His great renown, big Frigates he requires  
To keep the rear, the less securely lays  
Under the shelter of the greater's wing,  
And thus his shattered Navy off doth bring.   

(83.)  
Our greatest Frigates keep the Dutch in awe,  
If their advancing Vessels drew too near,  
They turned, and by a broadside give them law  
For distance, one was sunk the other fear,  
And follow as if awfully they come  
To see our battered Navy safely home.   

(84.)  
Only the Prince (a gallant Ship) did strand,  
Whose presence boldest Dutch could never brook,  
Nor durst approach while upright she could stand,  
But falling fowl, her helpless men they took:  
Herself expired in flames, much better so  
Than to be prize to the insulting foe.   

(85.)  
At last the Prince 
(r) Prince Rupert who came into the Duke on Sunday ever.  whose heart was in his ear,  
ere since he heard the Guns, steered by their Sound,  
With flying Colours doth far off appear,  
But French they were, which first did ours confound,  
And the glad Dutch bore up their friends to meet,  
And him with warlike welcome kindly greet.   

(86.)  
Approaching, he red Crosses soon displays,  
Which hushed their joy, heaved English hearts, and hands,  
De Ruyter sneaking back with shame, now lays  
With craft his bragging Ships behind the Sands,  
Who with a braving show now hover there  
To tempt the eager Prince into the snare.   

(87.)  
Fierce as a Lion he to combat slyes,  
To check the boldness of this vaunting foe,  
But the Duke's wibfe upon his Jack-slag spies,  
The signal that he should not forwards go,  
But first consult; then with a slighting tack  
He waves the Dutch, and to our Fleet comes back.   

(88)  
With leaping hearts the Prince, and Duke embrace;  
The Prince doubts no success, the Duke alive,  
The Duke sees Victory in the Prince's face;  
Both joy, and weep for joy, and weeping strive  
To tell their sights, and fears, how parted hence,  
Each shot against the Duke did wound the Prince.   

(89.)  
They curse their parting hour, but 'tis too late:  
Now the Dukes wasted stores the Prince supplies,  
And both next morn resolve to try their fate,  
For night came on, but soon their hunting eyes  
Did catch the breaking day, then rouse their men,  
And to the wakened Dutch stood in again. 
(s) The fourth days fight.    

(90.)  
In this one 
(t) The fifth day the fight held but an hour or two ere the Dutch withdrew.  day they three days war repeat;  
As if the Prince's presence healed all,  
The wounded men, and Ships so nimbly treat  
The Dutch with Presents of their Powdered ball,  
That their vast numbers to retreat begin,  
Willing to part stakes since they could not win.   

(91.)  
Night interceded for a truce again:  
Her suit was granted, but day calls to fight;  
The maimed Fleets lie lagging on the Main,  
Their chiefest war was now in angry sight;  
Their eyes shot death, unwieldy Ships could not;  
The Prince's Main-yard down by luckless shot.   

(92.)  
The Belgians bless the time, and now withdrew,  
In joyful triumph stand for Holland's Coast,  
Our shattered Generals could not pursue;  
And this is that great Victory they boast:  
When we not wont such Victories to make,  
Disclaim more right, and call it parting stake.   

(93.)  
Now our torn Vessels too are homewards bound  
For swift repair; The Duke displeased he brought  
No Triumph home, would touch no English ground,  
Until the Dutch with more success he fought:  
Took no content, although he had renown  
For what he did, in all minds but his own.   

(94.)  
The famous name of Monk all Lands adore,  
And though no Monks in England Bishops be,  
The Monk who sound beat the Dutch before,  
In spite of them shall rule the British Sea:  
He th' honour of three conquered Kingdoms bore  
The honour had three Kingdoms to restore.   

(95.)  
This sight the earnest was of great success,  
Without a Miracle could be no more;  
By which wisemen with hopeless hearts did guests  
The rest for a new fight was kept in store:  
For if divided us they could not beat,  
How will they stand by our united Fleet.   

(96.)  
Our careful King with personal industry  
Quickens his Carpenters with active hands  
To sit his Fleet another bout to try,  
Whose double diligence serves his Commands:  
Now the straits Fleet to join come fitly home:  
And others, newly of the stocks, do come.   

(97.)  
But to maintain the honour they assumed  
The hasty Dutch were vapouring on our shore,  
Now all would think them Victors they presumed,  
Who dared the Enemy at his own door:  
Nor stayed our (yet unready) Navy long,  
But soon appear as numerous, and strong.   

(98.)  
The boasting Dutch our coming would not stay,  
Nor th' English durst with equal numbers meet,  
Wisely they hoist their Sails, and go away;  
And after them did sail our gallant Fleet:  
Now Courages must fight, the numbers even,  
The glory to the Valiant shall be given.   

(99)  
What ours ne'er shun to seek, they seek to shun,  
An equal combat on the watery plain.  
Do Victors use from beaten foes to run?  
Leave bragging Belgians! for your brags are vain.  
These never will but with advantage fight,  
Nor kindness show but where they can get by't.   

(100)  
Behind their dangerous shallows bold they lie,  
As coward Cocks on their own dunghills crow,  
Ours mind no danger but to battle fly,  
Tossed o'er the flats by waves that lofty slow:  
Well overtaken, they their foes engage,  
And on their own Coast a fierce battle wage.   

(101.)  
The Generals did like themselves, nor can  
More in their praise be said; Allen was brave:  
Holmes as he used still played the gallant man;  
And Spraggs from Trump himself shall honour have:  
Harman through fire and water glory sought,  
And all the rest there like true English fought.   

(102.)  
The fight was sharp, but short, nor could be long  
Where heartless foes so soon did leave the field:  
They will not fight but when they're much too strong,  
Whose hasty flight did us less glory yield,  
They from the waxing sight so soon withdrew,  
The battle waned ere it to fullness grew.   

(103.)  
Now fled to Harbour close to shore they lay  
Their beaten Vessels, where 'twas pretty sport,  
To see the Fanfan with de Ruyter play;  
As if a Pigmy went to storm a Fort:  
The Prince, and Duke had pleasure there to note  
De ruyter's Ship fought by their Pleasure Boat.   

(104.)  
While on their Coast as Victors thus we lie,  
Holms, Holland's scourge, goes on an enterprise;  
And with admired success burns in the Uly  
A numerous Fleet 
(t) Con●isting of 150. Sail.  most rich in merchandise;  
Who when winds served would several ways have gone,  
But end their Voyage in the Torrid Zone.   

(105.)  
This done he Lands, and gives a Town to flames;  
But in this light our fate we did not see,  
Who had a greater soon on this side Thames  
A fire that quenched the joy of Victory:  
Yet praised be God, who under all our woe  
Supports our hearts from yielding to our foe.   

(106.)  
See here the vain attempts of mortals care,  
With restless toil for wealth by Sea, and Land,  
When Earth, Fire, Water, and the blustering Air  
Can all devour, what we count sure in hand:  
With much less labour we might be more wise,  
If we did trade for Heaven's Merchandise.   

(107.)  
Even when the flames our London made their prey,  
Our nimble Fleet was hunting foes at Sea,  
Both French and Dutch were joined now they say,  
This the brave Prince, and Fleet would gladly see:  
At last they have their sought for foes in view;  
But her black curtain night betwixt them drew.   

(108.)  
And e'er the morn did in the East appear,  
Heaven as a Mediator raised a wind  
To intercept the sight, no Ships could steer  
A steady course, nor place for battle find:  
This storm might Christians furious spirits calm,  
And on its wings for wounds bring healing balm.   

(109.)  
But if Dutch haughty spirits will not yield  
To Terms may suit our Nation's interest,  
Let foes combine! God is our Rock, and Shield,  
And will the justness of our cause attest:  
By War we seek an honourable Peace,  
Till this may be, War may not safely cease.   

(110.)  
Nor shall while England hath, or blood, or treasure,  
Or Loyal hearts have Votes in Parliament,  
Whose Princes will is their own choice, & pleasure,  
Assured the Nations good is his intent:  
And Loyal London which in ruin lies,  
Raked from her ashes raises new supplies.   

(111.)  
Whose fire hath made her Loyalty to shine,  
Rich to her King even in her low estate,  
Nor doth her bounty to her wealth confine,  
But makes her want supply the needs of State,  
And will convince both France, & Holland's Fleets,  
Her Spirit is not fallen with her Streets.   

(112.)  
Her Courage, and her Patience both are tried  
By fire, and do illustrious appear;  
With greater Patience none can loss abide  
Or with more courage far less crosses bear;  
Laid low, her foes to trample on her think,  
But neither fire, nor water make her shrink.   

(113.)  
Relenting Heaven who hath us sound scourged,  
These Virtues, pledge of better times, doth give,  
And if our Sickness hath our Vices purged,  
And Fire consumed our dross, we yet shall live,  
To see the War in our full Conquest cease,  
And London rising from her dust in peace.   

(114.)  
Then shall the Wealth of Nations thither flow,  
And silver Thames be rich as Tagus' shore,  
And Strangers ravished by her beauteous show,  
Turn captived Lovers, and go home no more:  
The East shall her adore with Incense, and  
The West enrich her with her golden sand.   

(115.)  
In ample glory lofty, and more wide,  
Her Streets with Structures uniform shall stand  
Surpassing all the world can boast beside;  
The Palace, and the Temple of our Land:  
And Swains who Heaven some glorious City deem,  
Will this the new Jerusalem esteem.   

(116.)  
Her Royal Father, whose dear sympathy  
In her late sufferings was her sweetest fare,  
Shall in her beauty, and her Loyalty  
Rejoice, and she in his great love, and care:  
Their twined interests and Affections shall  
Native, and Foreign Enemies appal,   

(117.)  
We have indeed been compassed with woes,  
Trials to good, and punishments to bad:  
We are beset by Sea, and Land with foes,  
Who in our sorrows, and distress are glad:  
But let our Faith and Courage now appear,  
Nor let us aught but God Almighty fear.   

(118.)  
Who his destroying Angels hand hath stayed,  
Who much from flames beyond our hopes did save,  
Who twice our Navy hath Victorious made,  
Whom still the faithful on their side shall have,  
Who to the patient will their loss repair  
With double gain; so patient Job did far.   

(119.)  
Now for the yet unfinished part of war:  
Go on brave Seamen, and complete your glory!  
Who die in this their Country's Martyrs are,  
Whose worthy Names shall live in British story:  
Lawson, and Mims with honour now do lie  
Embalmed in the English memory.   

(120.)  
When bullets fly so thick they darken air,  
The Lord of Hosts in such a storm can save;  
Or if your Souls these to light Mansions bear,  
And Seas your bodies take, the Sea's a grave  
Trusty as Earth, and when the Angel sounds  
Gives up her dead safe as the sacred grounds.   

(121.)  
But there's less fear of death than honour now,  
Your vanquished foes will scarce endure a sight,  
Scarce will their Keels this Spring the Ocean plough,  
The Conquest's now less difficult than sight:  
They, like dull Stars the Sun with-drawn, are clear  
About, watch their advantage to appear.   

(122.)  
Or as full Moons rise when the Sun doth set,  
Look big, and fierce, as if the skies they won;  
Our searching Fleet come in, so out they get,  
And shine as if the Ocean were their own.  
But when the Sun looks up, the Moon doth hide:  
So can't the Dutch our Navy's sight abide.   

(123.)  
But the Sun hunts the flying Moon until  
His Opposition doth eclipse her light:  
So seek the shifting Dutch our Navy will,  
Till they eclipse their honour in a fight.  
As for the French they Meteors are, no doubt;  
Let them but blaze a while, they will go out.   

(124.)  
Those shine like Stars, but are indeed a vapour,  
Which hath no proper Orb, howe'er it shows,  
But only upwards cuts a nimble caper,  
And sinks to Earth again from whence it rose:  
Perhaps these ignes fatui may jeer  
The Dutch into the Ditch and leave them there.   

(125.)  
But let us pious, loyal, loving, prove  
To God, our King, our Church, and one another;  
So shall the relics of our woes remove,  
And prosperous days our griefs, and fears shall smother:  
Our bliss from Virtue we may calculate  
More sure than any Stars Prognosticate.   
FINIS.