A PANEGYRIC Upon the ensuing SPRING.  

1.  
OH! Heavenly Calm thou meritest praise,  
Besides thou hast lasted now nine days,  
And may I hope a longer space,  
'Twixt Thunder Clashing.   

2.  
The City too is now becalmed,  
Their Threats are unto Mourning turned,  
Their pointed Push is now adjourned,  
And kept from Lashing.   

3.  
But their Libels fly to every Shire,  
As thick as Atoms in the Air,  
To ripen all their Brethren there,  
For new Rebellion.   

4.  
This Disappointment makes them Itch,  
Their Limbs are cramped with the old Stitch,  
Like Dogs in Strings, they Snarl and Twitch,  
Then lie to Spawn.   

5.  
The Doctor's busy now at work, 
Dr Oats   
With his new Knights o'th' Post i'th' dark,  
As Noah with all the World in's Ark,  
He's Catechising.   

6.  
The Badger's buckling up his Legs  
For the next Summer, peeps through the Hedge,  
And hopes there's Brood in all the Eggs,  
That are Baptising.   

7.  
The Tribe composed of Jew and Turk,  
And Irish Tories of great worth,  
Stand like a solemn Holding forth,  
Cunning their Lessons.   

8.  
The Senate swarms like cast out Bees, 
house of Commons   
And squoils like Rooks i'th' tops of Trees,  
Their Nests as near each other lies,  
Plotting Petitions.   

9  
Striving still to rouse the Rout,  
With many a dangerous senseless Doubt,  
And make them ready to help out,  
When Lying fails 'um.   

10.  
Pretended Griefs they do devise,  
And Judas-like their Looks disguise,  
Beg for redress upon their knees,  
When nothing ails 'um.   

11.  
Fears of the French they do deplore,  
The native Papists ten times more,  
Yet still to keep their Sovereign poor,  
They do endeavour.   

12.  
This shows that they no credit give  
To what they would have him believe,  
This beggings for Prerogative,  
Sir under favour.   

13.  
But when it comes, great comfort brings,  
Poor Subjects Slaves, and Members Kings,  
But Heaven, I hope, stops such damned things,  
Rebels be quiet.   

14.  
Or by that Loyalty I swear,  
Which to my Sovereign Prince I bear,  
I'll tell the World what Rogues you are,  
Can you deny it?   

15.  
Come never threaten to Rebel,  
Nor damn your Souls to stingy Hell,  
After your Bones are basted well,  
You must be Conquered.   

16.  
Think not on forty one, nor eight,  
That Precedent gives us such light,  
Tho' few dare speak, yet all dare fight,  
Till you be hampered.   

17.  
Let not your guilt o'th' guiltless fall,  
Nor Loyal Prelates Papists call,  
As if all were Rebels like you all,  
But Papists.   

18.  
Trust not too much to Tony's Wit, 
Earl of Shaftsbury   
Because the Devil Licenced it,  
To draw you all into this Fit,  
Frenzy and Apish.   

19  
If he like Luxemburg with's Art,  
Should let the Devil spoil his part,  
His Wit is all not worth a F— art  
Than where's his Followers?   

20.  
Mouth not so much against the Duke,  
Nor feed black hopes with vain dispute,  
What God decrees none can confute,  
Nor Tony Hollowers.   
FINIS.