O Hone! O Hone!  
A Magpye-Lecture, By way of LAMENTATION, FOR THE Miscarriage of the Plot, And the Loss of the late Intended French Invasion, As it was Delivered By a Nonswearing Parson IN THE Famed Congregation in Magpye-Atley, near Fetter-Lane, London, the 15th. of this Instant May, 1692.  
By D. H— late D. of G.  Woe unto us, for the WIND was against us. 
London, Printed for J. F. and are to be Sold at the Jacobite Conventicles of London and Westminster.   

In the Epistle of St. Lodowick to the Gallicans', the ●th. and the 14th.  
Woe unto us, for the Wind was against us.  
MY Beloved, being here met together, like Jews at a Passover, with our Loins girt, for a short bit and away, for fear of those Philistines and Moabites, the Beadles and Constables, being met, I say, in this Most Christian (to borrow the Title of our Great Lord and Master) Assembly, I have made choice of a Text properly suitable to our present occasion: Woe unto us, for the Wind stood against us.  
Before I launch into so large a Field as lies before me, in the subject of my following Discourse, I think fit first to prepare you for a due Attention and Reception of the great Truths delivered in my Text, by giving you a short, but glorious Character of the great St. Lodowick, the Divine Oracle that speaks it.  
Our St. Lodowick, that great Boanerges of Mankind, the miraculous first born of his Mother, after twenty two years' Conception, and sent into the World for the Conversion of Nations, by the Infallibility of ●ombs and Cannons. That great College of Mahomet, the only Apostle Militant both of the Crescent and Cross, speaks to his booted Disciples, the Gallicans', in the words of my Text: Woe unto us, for the Wind stood against us. And why all this denunciation of Woe? Yea verily, my Beloved, never a more sad occasion for wailing and lamentation. A Design so great and glorious as a Descent from France, an Invasion of England, so politicly laid, and so hopefully carried on, and yet to be so dismally blasted, blown up, as I may say, by a Wind! To be ready and prepared so early in the Spring with 30000 Swiss, Irish, Scotch, and French roaring Boys, to make a whip over, before the Heretic Williamites were awake, to oppose 'em, invited over too by Us the Loyal and Dutiful Jacobite Vassals, and Slaves to his most Anti-christian Sultanship, all sworn upon the Alcoran, so fat a squob as little dear England, so delicious a bit, just ready for his Pounce and Talons, and all lost by a Wind: For woe unto us, the Wind was against us.  
And now my, Beloved, have we the faithful Non-Jurants; his true and trusty Musslemen, so long Preached in Cellars and Garrets, the indispensable Duty of Fidelity and Allegiance to our great Gallican Lord and Sovereign; even to a Curse ye Meroz in his Cause. Oh the blessed Day, when the Gallican Miss, and Gallican Patriots at the Helm, the Advancement and Exaltation of the Gallican Greatness and Glory was the whole work and study of so many hopeful years, when the humble English Effeminacy was so industriously planting and watering his dear Flour-de-luces': Even our very Lions of Judah all turned to his dutiful assisting Isachars. Did we not see all this, and by the Duty of our Passive Obedience, use all our Pastoral Eloquence and Authority to Preach and Inculcate so divine a Cause. But not to call that happy Remembrance back again, so sweet to our Ears and so dear to our Souls, alas! the present business of the day is a more lamentable Subject; for, Woe unto us, the Wind was against us.  
But how, my Beloved, was the Wind against us? Oh, verily most perniciously, directly opposite to all our Hopes and Designs, that is to say, it stood in a Protestant Corner, yea, in a Protestant Corner; a Woe indeed, too bitter a draught of Gall even to be swallowed, or digested.  
Oh the comfortable sweets and the heavenly Manna we had tasted, that Sovereign Cordial to our drooping Souls, had we once feasted our Senses with so riotous a pleasure, as to have seen the consecrated Daggers of our dear Irish Brethren in the throats of our Heretic Enemies, to have battened in Massacre, and fattened with blood: But, alas, that Divine delight is utterly dashed and defeated: For woe unto us, the Wind was against us.  
Now my Beloved we have a great many very sad Reasons to lament that the Wind should be in the Protestant Corner. For first, what is Wind but Air? and the Prince of the Air being of our Party, 'tis very hard that the Wind should be against us.  
Secondly, The Wind has yet stronger Obligations to be of our Party. For, Beloved, it is written, that the Wind bloweth where it listeth; that is to say, Ruleth and Coverneth ala mode de France, at its own Arbitrary Will and Pleasure. And under that denomination of Absolute and Arbitrary, the divine Attributes of our Great Patron Lodowick, one would think the Wind should be a Jacobite. But this wicked Rebellious and unnatural Wind is a Protestant one, lay full in the Teeth of our Invincible Monarch, and overthrew all our Hopes and Foundation.  
Now, Beloved, as the Wind ruleth and governeth, as I said before, what, or what manner of Rule and Government is it, that that Rebel the Wind holdeth or usurpeth: A very large one, my Beloved, a wide and and ample Dominion, my Brethren, for it bloweth from the four Corners of the Earth; from the four did I say? Yea, and from the twice fourteen By-Corners also. And this malicious and spiteful Protestant Air, lay in the North and By East, one of the BY-Corners, my Beloved: And having named that short word or Particle [BY] which Heaven knows is but a little one, yet, Beloved, 'tis a very Emphatic one: For instance in several weighty particulars relating to our whole Designs.  
As first, our great Jacobite Plot, which we were just hatching in the World, proves an Abortive, or to use the Pagan Language of our Enemies, a Sooterkin, nay, and what's worse, a BY-Blow. The great Champions and Heroes of our Cause having given us the Go-BY, are thrown into the Tower, Newgate, Gatehouse, and other BY-places; and to sum all, too many of 'em, to our great Sorrow and Lamentation, are like to be hanged too by the BY. And their very names and memories, my Beloved, no more than a Byword amongst our reviling and sneering Enemies. And therefore, as I said before, this Particle [BY] is a very Emphatic one. Nay 'to continue the Emphatickness of this woeful [BY,] By St. Patrick and St. Loyala, our two great Jacobite Saints, never was Design better laid and projected. A great Navy, and several hundreds of Transport Ships, all ready by the beginning of April to stip BY, before the English Fleet could get out, and land an Army of dear Teagues and Rapparees, our Trusty and Beloved Sworn Brothers. But this Great and Invincible Armado, instead of getting BY, to be forced to lie BY, to have a long five Weeks Wind lie in this damned North-East, BY-Corner, and not only so, but a malicious Protestant Storm too to fall foul upon our Thoulon Fleet, and give our Expedition so great a Put-BY, till the whole Williamite Fleet is not only Equipped and Manned, but also Sailed BY, and what is yet worst of all, resolved to Stand BY their great Heretic Lord and Master. And all this through that calamitous Disappointment of Woe unto us, the Wind was against us.  
After this deplorable Catastrophe, let us hang up our Harps, our Irish Harps, upon the Willows, and sigh and sob in the bitterness of Spirit, and anguish of Heart, and mix our Cup of Affliction, even with the Lees of Vinegar, let it be the true White-wine Vinegar, my Beloved, the Growth and Product of our own still dear, tho' bitter Grapes; and no sophisticate Adulteration of Barley or Crab, that Heretic Verjuice, our Loathing and Abomination. For let us not start from our Cause, or our Principles, though Woe be unto us, the Wind is against us.  
Now Beloved, to give you some farther Light into my Text, it will not be unseasonable to make some more large inquiry into the nature of Wind. And here occurrs a very natural Observation, relating to the Extent or Power of Wind. Wind therefore is twofold, not only that blustering Termagant Roarer and Rover, the wicked Enemy of our Cause, that Anti-Jacobite Element, that blows from the North and the East, or from any other Corner of the greater World; there is a Wind likewise proper and peculiar only to the lesser World, blowing and breathing from the corners and Crannies of that Microcosm of Man. And this last Wind is of two kinds, both Learnedly displayed and deciphered by a very Eminent Author.  
Thus Wind i'th' hypocondriac penned,  
Turns but a blast, if downwards sent;  
But if it upwards chance to fly,  
It proves new Light and Prophecy.  
You see, Beloved, here are two Winds, purely signing and governing in our humane Microcosm. The one, as I may say, a kind of a Subterranean Wind rambling and rumbling in the Internes and Caverns of our Humane Terrestrial, and issuing forth, as the Poet observes, downwards in that formidable, tho' short-lived obstreperous Fulmination, if I may so say, Learnedly called a Blast. The second Wind, here dignified by the Title of New Light and Prophecy; of which I'll speak in their Order.  
To begin therefore with the first, the first in Order, though not the first in Quality, a Blast: A Blast did I say, something an unsavoury Conception, my Beloved; but truly, Brethren, very proper to our Cause: For even under that mean Class of Winds, that feeble homely puff, called a Blast, may many Heroic Exploits be, not unjustly, ranked and numbered, as being the Determinating point of too many Illustrious Designs and Achievements.  
For instance, what did our Maudlin-Colledge Reformation, our Spiritual High-Commission, our Castlemain Nuntio-ship, and Tyrconnel Vice-Royalty, and all the rest of our Popish Mines and Batteries, all the Grand Projections of our late Eminent St are 〈◊〉 kers, and Court-Locusts, end in, bu● a Blast 〈◊〉 what came all our Formidable Silisbuty Expedition, 〈◊〉 a Blast: Our Running Fight on the blind side 〈…〉 Boyne, and indeed, all the rest of our Irish Chival● but Blast, Blast all Blast. And truly my Beloved, w● aching heart and weeping eyes be it spoken, we ha● but too much Reason to fear and dread, that o● whole Descent and Invasion will terminate in ju● such another unsavoury Whiff, a Blast; what sh● I call it, a Puff, a Vapour, a little diminutive Back●id Crack, that's All, my Beloved. For, Woe unto us, t● Wind was against us.  
Now to come to our second Wind, our New Lig'● and Prophecy, under this Class are to be reckoned 〈◊〉 our Divine Gadbury's Predictions, and the rest of our Great Prophecies, the Crutch and Prop of all our finking Hopes, such as our In ternis Annis Rex Religioque redibunt.  
And now I come to speak of Prophecies: Even those Superior Ebullitions of Wind may not imp●perly be ranked under the notion or name of Bla●● For as the forementioned Blast is only a violent Eruption of some Corporeal Collection of Vapours, savoured and hogoed in its Evaporation, according to the Odour of the Internal Minerals through which it passes; The like may be said of all our Great Jacobite Propheticks and prognostics, as being only a Spiritual sort of Whiff, the Erruption-likewise of some Mercurials Volatiles, through the Misfortune and Calamity of all our defeated Expectations, Mundungofyed into a Blast: For, Woe be unto us, the Wind sits against us.  Licenced, according to Order. 
FINIS.