A dog's ELEGY, OR Rupert's TEARS, For the late Defeat given him at Marston-moore, near York, by the Three Renowned generals; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish Forces, Ferdinando Lord Fairefax, and the Earl of Manchester generals of the English Forces in the North.  
Where his beloved Dog, named boy., was killed by a valiant soldier, who had skill in Necromancy.  
Likewise the strange breed of this shagged Cavalier, whelped of a Malignant Water-witch; With all his Tricks, and Feats.  
Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all  
That do survive, to his dog's funeral.  
Close-mourners are the Witch, Pope, & devil,  
That much lament you're late befallen evil.  
Printed at London, for G. B. July 27. 1644.   

A Dogg's elegy, OR Rupert's Tears.  

LAment poor Caevaliers, cry, howl and yelp  
For the great loss of your Malignant Whelp,  
he's dead! he's dead? No more alas can he  
Protect you dams, or get victory.   

How sad that Son of Blood did look to hear  
One tell the death of this shagged Cavalier, 
P. Rupert's sorrow.   
He raved, he tore his periwig, and swore,  
Against the roundheads that he'd ne'er fight more:  
Close couched, as in a field of beans he lay, 
His policy.   
Cursing and banning all that livelong day;  
Thousands of devils ram me into Hell,  
Or may I live and die an infidel,  
The Day's quite lost, we are all confounded,  
And made a prey to every paltry Roundhead;   

Just heaven had so Decreed, as it fell out,  
The Cavaliers received a final Rout.  
Manchester, Leslie, Fairefax wears the Bay. 
His Army Routed.   
And Crumwell crowned chief Victor of the Day;  
While thousands weltering in their blood, did lie  
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die.   

But for to tell of this Bl●ck Water-witch, 
His dog's Progeny.   
That puppyed was of a Malignant Bitch,  
Or hag, so cunning in her Art, that she  
Walked under earth 〈◊〉 in the air 〈◊〉 fly, 
The property of Witches.   
Sell winds she could, command the Ebb or Tide,  
Raise fogs, give Spells or on the clouds could ride,  
For magic, Sorcery, charm or evil,  
She well, might 〈…〉 to th' devil.   

This Witch one night, late, picking baneful Drugs,  

Her Spirit.  Meeting grim Brenno, used to suck her dugs,  
In shape of a young stripling Dammy Blade,  
For whoredom, Murder, and for Rapine made,  
For all the world, some say, just such another  
That used to call Prince Maurice brother:  
Thus she accosted him, What form is this  
Thou hast assumed Brenno? By the abyss,  
My blood rebels more powerful than my charms,  
Till I do lodge thee in my twined arms.   


The dog begotten.  No sooner had she spoke, but a black cloud  
With dusky curtains did them both enshrowde,  
Where was begotten this Malignant cur,  
Who in this island hath made all this stir.   

Full thrice three yeears within her cursed womb,  
He did remain, ere he to light did come:  
The longed for hour is come, most strange to tell,  
The Furies straight about their business fell;  
Megaera midwife was to this strange Fiend,  
For whose delivery all the hags attend:  
Thunder and Earth quakes such a noise did make,  
As if heaven's Axletree in sunder broke,  
And either Poles, their heads together pashed,  
As all again they had to Chaos dashed:  
Then was a noise, as if the Garden bears,  
And all the dogs together by the ears,  
And those in Bedlam had enlarged been,  
And to behold the baiting had come in.   


Signs of prodigious births.  About by noon flew the affrighted Owls,  
And Dogs in corners set them down to howl,  
Bitches and Wolves these fatal signs among,  
Brought forth most monstrous, and prodigious young:  
And from his height, the earth-refreshing Sun,  
Before his hour his golden beams doth run  
Far under us, in doubt his glorious Eye  
Should be polluted with this prodigy.  
A trembling fear straight on the people grew,  
But for what cause there was not one that knew,   

Th' Destinies, furies, Fates, and all hell's Crew  
Came trembling in, and would this Monster view,  
And long it was not ere there came to light.  
The most abhorred, and most fearful sight  
That ever eye beheld, a birth so strange,  
That at the view it made their looks to change:  
Women stand off (quoth one) and come not near it, 
The dog's birth.   
The devil, if he saw it, sure would fear it,  
For by its shape, for aught that I can gather,  
The child is able to affright the Father:  
'Twas like a Dog, yet there was none did know  
Whether it devil was, or Dog, or no.   

Scarce twice two years past o'er, 
His cunning.  but quickly he  
Excelled his Mother in her witchery,  
And in his black and gloomy Arts so skilled,  
That he even Hell in his subjection held;  
He could command the Spirits up from below,  
And bind them strongly, till they let him know  
All the dread secrets that belong them to,  
And what those did, with whom they had to do.   

This wizard in his knowledge most profound, 
His depth of skill▪   
Sat on a day the depths of things to sound,  
For that the world was brought to such a pass,  
That it well ne'er in a confusion was,  
For things set right, ran quickly out of frame,  
And those awry, to rare perfection came,  
And matters in such sort about were brought,  
That States were puzzled almost beyond thought,  
Which made him think as he might very well,  
There were more devils than he knew in hell.   

Now for to Act his part he doth begin,  
And tempts the world to all abhorred sin:   

To Rome he first resolves his course to steer, 
His first trick.   
And quickly leaps into the prelate's chair,  
Just 'bout the time some think when as Pope Joan  
Was head o'the Church, and troubled with the stone,  
He cured her holiness, brought her a-bed,  
And showed the Romish Church her Maiden head:   

But finding Rome already prone to Vice,  
To Pride, vainglory, Lust and Avarice,  
To Murder, Rape, Idolatry and more  
Than he (though devil) ever knew before,  
For Spain he comes, just about Eighty Eight,  
And there a Fleet he rigged for England straight,  

The great Armado.  There did he play his Water-prize with Dr●ke,  
Who with Earth's thunder, made proud Neptune quake;  
He taught this Dog to Duck, to swim, and dive,  
Till scarce a Spaniard he had left alive;  
But being vexed, missing his aim at Sea,  
He vowed on Land revenged he would be,   


Queen Elizabeth many times miraculously delivered.  But heaven which ever did Protect that Queen,  
Debarred his malice, and repelled his spleen;  
Till Jove fetching her hence, gave her a crown,  
More bright, more glorious, and of more renown,  
Who reigns till Time hath date, or Fame hath breath,  
Queen of true English hearts in life and death.   

Aurora's gone: Bright Sol is in his Throne,  
Then dry your eyes, and cease for her to mourn:  
This dog now casts about, tries all his skill,  
To poison, stab, or some new way to kill  
Never yet heard of; The masterpiece of hell  

The Popish Powder-plot.  Is now contrived that wants a parallel,  
The Powder-Plot, that would in one half hour,  
King, Prince, Peers, Commons, at one blow devower,  
But than he failed too, the Eye of heaven  
Descried the Plot, and Justice with an even  
Impartial hand, by the Decree of Jove,  
Set free our Kingdom, and did them remove,  
Gave them their just reward, sent them to Hell,  
'Mongst better devils than themselves and well.   

Our Dog is masterless; Could he but frame  
Himself to serve the favourite Buckingham,  

The Dog turns Courtier.  This cunning, sly, insinuating elf,  
By him would work strange wonders for himself,  
Then doth he Plot, contrive and cast about▪  
And Hell itself doth search, for to find out,  
If any way were left, he vowed to 〈…〉  
Once more to bring this land to 〈…〉.   


Duke of Lenox.  Now dies that Noble Scot, who 〈…〉 s tell,  
'Twas thy Ambition made his carcase swell.  

Prince Henry.  Next, Prince Henry— But here my Muse strikes sail,  
A damp glide through 〈…〉  
I know not, unless some powerful Spell  
Hath charmed my head into a watery well:   

" Eyes weep out tears, tears weep out eyes in kindness,  
" Since he is dead, how best of all is blindness.  
A Match with Spain must now be practised,  
Which soon will strike the nail up to the head:  
Oh, now it works, which makes his holiness, 
The Pope's letter.   
Salute his hopeful son with an express,  
Answered with so much candour to the chair,  
As if Himself of it did stand in fear.   

The Match broke off with Spain, our Noble boy.  
Is yet to seek, and must find out a way  
By poison still, how that (O monstrous!) He  
More home may strike at Sacred majesty,  
Great Britain's KING, and Europa's chiefest glory, 
K. James his death.   
Scarce paralleled in any English Story,  
Must with White Powder given him in his drink,  
Cry out on him that made his carcase sink.   

O for a Bishop now, Come Little Land, 
Canterbury ushers in popery.   
And usher in the Babylonish bawd,  
This made him Metropolitan, when he  
Did move the Duke to go tothth' isle of Ree, 
The I'll of Rue voyage.   
Poor Rochel rued it, where by more than Chance,  
England was made the scorn of conquered France:  
But heaven by Felton's hand had so decreed,  
He that shed all this blood, himself should bleed.   

Now Bishops, copes, Caps, Surplices and Crosses,  
Must needs Religion-o're these fatal Losses:  
God's Day must be profaned with Sports profane, 
The Declaration for Sports on the Sabbath-day.   
Laud, White, and Wren, like Tyrant-Kings must Reign:  
Monopolies imposed, and none go free,  
But those that loved the mass, and Popery.   

Now Tips of Ears, and burning fiery scars, 
Mr. Burton, Mr. Prynne, and Dr. Bastwick.   
Were all sad Symptoms of ensuing wars!   

That mass-book unto Scotland now must trace, 
Scotland's piety.   
Or else a Bloody Sword supplies the place.   

Now doth that sur-Reverend Piece of Lust, 
Queen mother.   
That Madam Pole cat, that was never just,  
Contrive and Plot, and wrack her whoary scull,  
Urging her Daughter to make mischief full.   

Now Strafford's on the dismal Stage: 'tis he  
Must Act chief part in this red tragedy:   


traitors, and papists, Whe●ps of the same litter.  Now Harry Jemin, Bristol, Digby, Cott.—  
Must all to work, and see what they can Plot:   

Now Bleeding Ireland hath by Commission,  
Brought th' Prot'stants to a sad condition:  
Two hundred thousand of them lately slain,  
The Protestant Religion to maintain.   

'Tis time the King now leave his Parliament,  
Let Digby wear his Crown, and give consent  
To raise an Army traitors to protect,  
And his Great counsel utterly reject.   


The dog's Master.  Now Prince of Robbers, Duke of Plunderland,  
This Dogs great Master, hath received command  
To kill, burn, steal, Ravish, nay, any thing,  
And in the end to make himself a King.   

Newcastle next, Capell the Cow stealer,  

These and Irish rebels, his majesty's best Subjects.  And Hastings alias Rob-Carrier,  
Hopton, Hurry, Lunsford, that all do Fight  
For the true Gospel, and the Subjects Right.   

On Ashton, Legge, and such as these do stand  
The privilege of Parliament and Land!   

And the Known Laws, that should good men protect,  
Upheld by rebels, that good men reject,   

O durum hoc!— Mine eyes burst out to think  
How blind he is, that can at these things wink.   

To tell you all the pranks this dog hath wrought,  
That loved his Master, and him Bullets brought,  
Would but make laughter, in these times of woe,  
Or how this cur came by his fatal blow,  
Look on the Title page, and there behold,  
The Emblem will all this to you unfold.   

Moral.  
The world's the witch, the dog, is the devil,  
And men th' Actors, that have wrought this evil.   

EPILOGUE.  
He that can't get a penny me to buy,  
May want a Pound, and a Malignant die.   
FINIS.