Your foaring fouls they meet with triumph, all
Led by great Stephen their old general.
Go, -
now prefer thy flourishing state
Above thofe murder'd heroe's doleful fate;
Enjoy that life which thou durft basely save,
And thought'ft a faw-pit nobler than a grave,
Thus many fav'd themselves, and night the reft,
Night, that agrees with their dark actions beft.
A difmal fhade did heaven's fad face o'erflow,
Dark as the night flain rebels found below;
No gentle stars their cheerful glories rear'd,
Afham'd they were at what was done, and fear'd
Left wicked men their bold excufe fhould frame
from fome ftrange influence, and fo vail their
fhame.

To Duty thus, Order and Law incline,
They who ne'er err from one cternal line;
As juft the ruin of thefe men they thought,
As Sifera's was, 'gainst whom themselves had
fought,

Still they rebellions' ends remember well,
Since Lucifer the great, their fhining captain fell.
For this the bells they ring, and not in vain;
Well might they all ring out for thousands flain;
For this the bonfires their glad lightnefs fpread,
When funeral flames might more befit their dead;
For this with folemu thanks they tire their God,
And, whilft they feel it, mock th' Almighty's rod;
They proudly now abuse his juftice more,
Than his long mercies they abus'd before,
Yet these the men that true religion bouft,
The pure and holy, holy, holy, host!

What great reward for fo much zeal is given? Why, Heaven has thank'd them fince as they thank'd Heaven.

Witnefs thou Brentford, fay, thou ancient town, How many in thy ftreets fell groveling down; Witnefs the red-coats weltering in their gore, And dy'd anew into the name they bore: Witness their men blow'd up into the air (All elements their ruins joy'd to share); In the wide air quick flames their bodies tore, Then, drown'd in waves, they're toft by waves to fhore:

Witness thou Thames, thou waft amaz'd to fee
Men madly run to fave themselves in thee:

In vain, for rebels' lives thou would'il not fave,
And down they funk beneath thy conquering wave.
Good, reverend Thames! the bett-belov'd of all
Thofe noble floods that meet at Neptune's hall;
London's proud towers, which do thy head adorn,
Are not thy glory now, but grief and fcorn.
Thou griev't to fee the white-nam'd palace fhine,
Without the beams of its own lord and thine:
Thy lord, which is to all as good and free,
As thou, kind flood! to thine own banks canft be.
How does thy peaceful back difdain to bear
The rebels' bufy pride at Weftminster!
Thou, who thyfelf doft without murmuring pay
Eternal tribute to thy prince the fea.

To Oxford next great Charles in triumph came,
Oxford, the British Mufes' fecond fame.
Here learning with fome state and reverence looks,
And dwells in buildings lafting as her books;
Both now eternal, but they'd afhes been,
Had thefe religious Vandals once got in.

Not Bodley's noble work their rage would fpare,
For books they know the chief malignants are.
In vain they filence every age before;
For pers of time to come will wound them more !
The temple's decent wealth, and modeft state,
Had fuffer'd; this their avarice, that their hate;
Beggary and fcorn into the church they'd bring,
And made God glorious, as they made the king;
O happy town, that to lov'd Charles's fight,
In thofe fad times, gav'ft fafety and delight,
The fate which civil war itself doth blefs!
Scarce would it thou change for peace this happiness.
'Midft all the joys which Heaven allows thee here,
Think on thy fifter, and then shed a tear.

What fights did this fad winter fee cach day,
Her winds and ftorms came not fo thick as they!
Yet nought thefe far-loit rebels could recall,
Not Marlborough's nor Cirencester's fall.
Yet ftill for peace the gentle conqueror fues;
By his wrath they perish, yet his love refuse.
Nor yet is the plain leffon understood,
Writ by kind Heaven in B- and H-'s blood.
Chad and his church faw where their enemy lay,
And with juft red new-mark'd their holy-day.
Fond men! this blow the injur'd Crofier ftrook;
Nought was more fit to perish, but thy book.
Such fatal vengeance did wrong'd Charlegrove
fhew,

Where both begun and ended too
His curs'd rebellion; where his foul's repaid
With feparation, great as that he made.

whofe fpirit mov'd o'er this mighty frame O' th' British ifle, and out this chaos came. the man that taught confufion's art; His treafons reftlefs, and yet noifeless heart. His active brain like Atna's top appear'd, Where treafon 's forg'd, yet no noife outward

heard.

'Twas he contriv'd whate'er bold M― faid, And all the popular noife that P- has made; "Twas he that taught the zealous rout to rife, And be his flaves for fome feign'd liberties; Him for this black defign, hell thought oft fit; Ah! wretched man, curs'd by too good a wit!

If not all this your ftubborn hearts can fright,
Think on the Weft, think on the Cornish might;
The Saxon fury, to that far-ftretch'd place,
Drove the torn relics of great Brutus' race;
Here they of old did in long safety lie,
Compafs'd with feas, and a worse enemy;
Ne'er till this time, ne'er did they meet with foes
More cruel and more barbarous than those.
Ye noble Britons, who fo oft with blood
Of Pagan hofts have dy'd old Tamar's flood;
If any drop of mighty Uther fill,
Or Uther's mightier fon, your veins does fill;
Shew then that fpirit, till all men think by you
The doubtful tales of your great Arthur true;
You 'ave fhewn it, Britons, and have often done
Things that have cheer'd the weary, fetting fun.
Again did Tamar your dread arms behold,
As juft and as fuccefsful as the old;

It kifs'd the Cornish banks, and vow'd to bring
His richest waves to feed th' enfuing fpring;
But murmur'd fadly, and almost deny'd
All fruitful moisture to the Devon fide.

Ye fons of war, by whofe bold acts we fee
How great a thing exalted man may be;
The world remains your debtor, that as yet
Ye have not all gone forth and conquer'd it.
I knew that Fate fome wonders for you meant,
When matchlefs Hopton to your coafts the fent;
Hopton! fo wife, he needs not Fortune's aid,
So fortunate, his wifdom 's ufelefs made:
Should his fo-often-try'd companions fail,
His fpirit alone, and courage, would prevail.
Miraculous man! how would I fing thy praife,
Had any Mufe crown'd me with half the bays
Conqueft hath given to thee: and next thy name
Should Berkeley, Stanning, Digby, prefs to fame.
Godolphin! thee, thee Grenville! I'd rehearse,
But tears break off my verfe!-

How oft has vanquish'd Stamford backward fled;
Swift as the parted fouls of thofe he led!
How few did his huge multitudes defeat,
For moft are cyphers when the number's great!
Numbers, alas! of men, that made no more
Than he himself, ten thousand times told o'er.
Who hears of Stratton-fight, but muft confefs
All that he heard or read before was lefs;
Sad Germany can no fuch trophy boaft,
For all the blood thefe twenty years the 'as loft.
Vaft was their army, and their arms were more
Than th' hoft of-hundred-handed giants bore.
So ftrong their arms, it did almost appear
Secure, had neither arms nor men been there.
In Hopton breaks, in break the Cornish powers,
Few, and fcarce arm'd, yet was th' advantage ours:
What doubts could be, their outward ftrength to
win,

When we bore arms and magazine within?
The violent fword's outdid the mufket's ire;
It ftrook the bones, and there gave dreadful fire:
We fcorn'd their thunder; and the reeking blade
A thicker fmoke than all their cannon made;
Death and loud tumults fill'd the place around
With fruitless rage; fall'n rebels bite the ground!
The arms we gain'd were wealth, bodies o' th' foe,
All that a full-fraught victory can bestow!
Yet ftays not Hopton thus, but ftill proceeds;
Purfues himself through all his glorious deeds;
With Hertford and the Prince he joins his fate
(The Belgian trophies on their journey wait);
The Prince, who oft had check'd proud W's
fame,

And fool'd that flying conqueror's empty name :
Till by his lofs that fertile monster thriv'd;
This ferpent cut in parts rejoin'd and liv'd:
It liv'd, and would have ftung us deeper yet,
But that bold Grenville its whole fury met;
He fold, like Decius, his devoted breath,
And left the commonwealth heir to his death.
Hail, mighty ghoft! look from on high, and fee
How much our hands and fwords remember thee!
At Roundway Heath, our rage at thy great fall
Whet all our fpirits, and made us Grenvilles all.
One thousand horfe beat all their numerous
power;

Blefs me! and where was then their conqueror?
Coward of fame, he flies in haste away;

Men, arms, and name, leaves us, the victors' prey. VOL. II.

What meant thofe iron regiments which he

brought,

That moving ftatyes feem'd, and fo they fought?
No way for death but by disease appear'd,
Cannon, and mines, and fiege, they fcarcely fear'd:
Till, gainst all hopes, they prov'd in this fad
fight

Too weak to ftand, and yet too flow for flight.
The Furies howl'd aloud through trembling air;
Th' attorifh'd fnakes fell fadly from their hair:
To Lud's proud town their hafty flight they took,
The towers and temples at their entrance fhook.
In vain their lofs they' attempted to disguise,
And mustered up new troops of fruitless lyes:
God fought himself, nor could th' event be lefs;
Bright Conqueft walks the fields in all her drefs.
Could this white day a gift more grateful bring?
Oh yes! it brought blefs'd Mary to the King!
In Keynton field they met; at once they view
Their former victory, and enjoy a new;
Keynton, the place that Fortune did approve,
To be the nobleft fcene of war and love.
Through the glad vale ten thoufand Cupids fled,
And chac'd the wandering fpirits of rebels dead:
Still the lewd fcent of powder did they fear,
And scatter'd eaftern fmells through all the air.
Look, happy mount! look well! for this is the,
That toil'd and travel'd for thy victory:
Thy flourishing head to her with reverence bow;
To her thou ow't that fame which crowns thee

now.

From far-stretch'd fhores they felt her spirit and might;

Princes and God at any distance fight.

At her return well might fhe' a conqueft have!
Whofe very abfence fuch a conqueft gave.-
This in the Weft; nor did the North beflow
Lefs caufe their ufual gratitude to fhow:
With much of flate brave Cavendish led them
forth,

As fwift and fierce as tempeft from the north;
Cavendish! whom every Grace, and every Mufe,
Kifs'd at his birth, and for their own did chufe:
So good a wit they meant not should excel
In arms; but now they fee 't, and like it well;
So large is that rich empire of his heart,
Well may they reft contented with a part.
How foon he forc'd the northern clouds to flight,
And ftruck confufion into form and light!
Scarce did the Power Divine in fewer days
A peaceful world out of a chaos raife.
Bradford and Leeds prop'd up their finking fame;
They bragg'd of hofts, and Fairfax was a name.
Leeds, Bradford, Fairfax' powers are trait their

So Capancus two armies fill'd with wonder When he charg'd Jove, and grappled with his thunder ;

Both hofts with filence and with terror fhook,
As if not he, but they, were thunder-ftrook.
The courage here, and boldnefs, was no lefs;
Only the caufe was better, and fuccefs.
Heaven will let nought be by their cannon done,
Since at Edgehill they finn'd, and Burlington.
Go now, your filly calumnics repeat,
And make all Papifts whom you cannot beat!
Let the world know fome way, with whom
you're vext,

And vote them Turks when they o'erthrow you next!

Why will you die, fond men! why will you buy
At this fond rate your country's flavery?
Is 't liberty? What are thofe threats we hear? *
Why do you thus th' old and new prifon fill?
When that's the only why; becaufe you will?
Fain would you make God too thus tyrannous be,
And damn poor men by fuch a stiff decree.
fs 't property ? Why do fuch numbers, then,
From God beg vengeance, and relief from men?
Why are th' eftates and goods feiz'd-on, of all
Whom covetous or malicious men mifcall?
What's more our own than our own lives?
But oh

Could Yeomans or could Bourchier find it fo?
The barbarous coward, always us'd to fly,
Did know no other way to fee men die.
Or is 't religion? What then mean your lyes,
Your facrileges, and pulpit-blafphemies?
Why are all fects let loofe that cre had birth,
Since Luther's noife wak'd the lethargic earth?
The Autbor awent no further.

THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST.

A SATIRE.

O two rude waves, by ftorms together thrown, Roar at cach other, light, and then grow one. Religion is a circle; men contend, And run the round in difpute, without end : Now, in a circle, who go contrary, Mu2, at the laft, meet of neceffity. The Roman Catholic, to advance the caufe, Allows a lye, and calls it Pia Fraus; The Puritan approves and does the fame, Diflikes nought in it but the Latin name: He flows with his devices, and dares lye In very deed, in truth, and verity.

He whines, and fighs-out lyes with fo much ruth, As if he griev'd 'cause he could ne'er fpeak truth. Lyes have poffefs'd the prefs fo, as their due, "I will fearce, I fear, henceforth print Bibles true. Lyes for their next strong fort ha' th' pulpit chofe; There they throng out at th' preacher's mouth and note,

***A line is here evidently wanting; but the defect is in all the copies hitherto known.

And, howe'er grofs, are certain to beguile
The poor book-turners of the middle ifle:
Nay, to th' Almighty's felf they have been bold
Tolye; and their blafphemous minifter told,
They might fay falfe to God; for if they were
Beaten, he knew 't not, for he was not there.
But God, who their great thankfulness did fee,
Rewards them ftrait with another victory,
Juft fuch an one as Brentford; and, fans doubt,
Will weary, ere 't be long, their gratitude out.
Not all the legends of the faints of old,
Not vaft Baronius, nor fly Surius, hold
Such plenty of apparent lyes as are

In your own author, Jo. Browne, Cleric. Par.
Befides what your small poets faid or writ,
Brookes, Strode, and the baron of the faw-pit:
With many a mental refervation,

You'll maintain liberty :-Referv'd" your own."
For th' public good the fums rais'd you'll disburse;
-Referv'd" the greater part, for your own purse.'
You'll root the Cavaliers out, every man;
-Faith, let it be referv'd here "if ye can.'
You'll make our gracious Charles a glorious king;
-Referv'd" in heaven"-for thither ye would
bring

His royal head; the only fecure room

For kings; where fuch as you will never come. To keep th' eftates o' th' fubjects you pretend; -Referv'd" in your own trunks." You will defend

The church of England, 'tis your proteftation; But that's "New"-England by a small Refer

vation.

Power of difpenfing oaths the Papifts claim;
Cafe hath got leave of God to do the fame :
For
you do hate all swearing fc, that when
You 've fworn an oath, ye break it ftrait again.
A curfe upon you! which hurts moft thefe nations,
Cavaliers' fwearing, or your proteflations?
Nay, though oaths be by you fo much abl.or'd,
Y'allow God damn me" in the Puritan Lord.

They keep the Bible from laymen; but ye
Avoid this, for you have no laity.
They in a foreign and unknown tongue pray,
You in an unknown fenfe your prayers fay;
So that this difference 'twixt you does enfic-
Fools understand not them, not wife men you.

They an unprofitable zeal have got

Of invocating faints, that hear them not; "Twere well you did fo; nought may more be fear'd,

In your fond prayers, than that they should be

heard.

To them your nonfenfe well enough might pafs, Thay d ne'er fee that i' th' divine looking-glafs. Nay, whether you'd werfhip faints is not known, For ye lave as yet, of your religion, none.

They by good-works think to be justify'd: You into the fame error deeper flide; You think by works too justify'd to be. And thofe ill-works-lyes, treafon, perjury. But, oh ! your faith is mighty; that hath been, As true faith ought to be, of things unfcen : At Wor'fter, Brentford, and Edgehill, we fee, Only by faith, ye 'ave got the victory.

Such is your faith, and fome fuch unseen way,
The public faith at laft your debts will pay.
They hold free-will (that nought their fouls
may bind)

As the great privilege of all mankind;
You're here more moderate; for 'tis your intent
To make 't a privilege but of parliament.
They forbid priefts to marry; you worse do;
Their marriage you allow, yet punish too;
For you'd make priefts fo poor, that upon all
Who marry scorn and beggary must fall.

They a bold power o'er facred fcriptures take, Blot out fome claufes, and fome new ones make; Your great lord Jefuit Brookes publicly faid (Brookes, whom too little learning hath made mad),

That to correct the Creed ye should do well,
And blot-out Chrift's defcending into hell.
Repent, wild man! or you 'll ne'er change, I
fear,

The fentence of your own defcending there.

Yet modeftly they use the Creed; for they Would take the Lord's-Prayer root and branch away:

And wifely faid a Levite of our nation,
The Lord's Prayer was a Popifh innovation.
Take heed, you'll grant ere long it fhould be faid,
An 't be but to defire your daily bread.

They keep the people ignorant: and you
Keep both the people and yourselves so too.
They blind obedience and blind duty teach:
You blind rebellion and blind faction preach;
Nor can I blame you much, that ye advance
That which can only fave you, Ignorance;
Though, Heaven be prais'd!' has oft been proved
well,

Your ignorance is not invincible;

Nay, fuch bold lyes to God himself ye vaunt,
As if you 'd fain keep him too ignorant.

Limbus and Purgatory they believe,
For leffer finners; that is, I conceive,
Malignants only: you this trick does please;
For the fame caufe ye 'ave made new Limbufes,
Where we may lie imprison'd long, ere we
A day of judgment in your courts shall fee
But Pym can, like the Pope, with this difpenfe,
And for a bribe deliver fouls from thence.

Their councils claim infallibility: Such muft your Conventicle-fynod be; And teachers from all parts of th' earth ye call, To make 't a Council Oecumenical.

They feveral times appoint from meats' t'
abstain:

You now for th' Irish wars a faft ordain;
And, that that kingdom might be fure to fast,
Ye take a courfe to ftarve them all at laft :
Nay, though ye keep no eves, Fridays, nor Lent,
Not to drefs meat on Sundays you 're content;
Then you repeat, repeat, and pray, and pray,
Your teeth keep fabbath, and tongues work-
ing-day.

They preserve relics: you have few or none,
Unless the clout fent to John Pym be one;
Or Holles's rich widow, fhe who carry'd
A relic in her womb before the marry'd.

They in fucceeding Peter take a pride:
So do you; for your mafter ye 'ave deny'd.
But chiefly Peter's privilege ye choose,
At your own wills to bind and to unloofe.
He was a fisherman; you'll be so too,
When nothing but your fhips are left to you:
He went to Rome; to Rome you backward ride
(Though both your goings are by fome deny'd)
Nor is 't a contradiction, if we fay,

You go to Rome the quite contrary way.
He dy'd o' th' cross; that death's unufual now;
The gallows is moft like 't, and that 's for you.

They love church-mufic; it offends your fenfe,
And therefore ye have fung it out from thence;
Which fhews, if right your mind be understood,
You hate it not as mufic, but as good:
Your madness makes you fing as much as they
Dance who are bit with a Tarantula.
But do not to yourfelves, alas appear
The moft religious traitors that e'er were,
Because your troops finging of pfaims do go;
There's many a traitor has march'd Holborn fo.
Nor was 't your wit this holy project bore;
Tweed and the Tyne have feen thofe tricks
before.

They of strange miracles and wonders tell : You are yourfelves a kind of miracle; Ev'n fuch a miracle as in writ divine We read o'-th' devil' hurrying down the fwine. They have made images to speak: 'tis faid, You a dull image have your Speaker made; And, that your bounty in offerings might abound, Ye 'ave to that idol giv'n fix thousand pound. They drive-out devils, they fay: here ye begin To differ, I confefs-you let them in.

They maintain tranfubftantiation;
You, by a contrary philofophers'-stone,
To tranfubftantiate metals have the skill,
And turn the kingdom's gold to ir'n and steel.
I' th' facrament ye differ; but 'tis noted,
Bread must be flesh, wine bload, if e'er 't be voted.
They make the Pope their head; y' exalt for
him,

Primate and metropolitan, mafter Pym;
Nay, White, who fits i' th' infallible chair,
And moft infallibly speaks nonfense there;
Nay, Cromwell, Pury, Whiftler, Sir John Wray,
He who does fay, and fay, and fay, and fay;
Nay, Lowry, who does new church-government
with,

And prophefies, like Jonas, 'midst the fish;
Who can fuch various bufinefs wifely fway,
Handling both herrings and bishops in one day:
Nay, all your preachers, women, boys, and men,
From mafter Calamy to mistress Ven,
Are perfect Popes, in their own parish, grown;
For, to out-do the ftory of pope Joan,
Your women preach too, and are like to be
The whore of Babylon as much as fhe.

They depofe kings by force: by force you'd

do it,

But firft ufe fair means to perfuade them to it. They dare kill kings: and 'twixt ye here's the

ftrife,

That you dare shoot-at kings to fave their life:

And what's the difference, pray, whether he fall
By the Pope's Bull or your Ox general?
Three kingdoms thus you ye ftrive to make your

own,

And, like the Pope, ufurp a triple crown.
Such is your faith, fuch your religion;
Let's view your manners now, and then I've
done.

Your covetoufnefs let gasping Ireland tell,
Where first the Irish lands, and next ye fell
The English blood, and raife rebellion here
With that which should fupprefs and quench it
there.

What mighty fums have ye fqueez'd out o' th' city!

Enough to make them poor, and fomething witty.

Excife, loans, contributions, poll-monies,
Bribes, plunder, and fuch parliament privileges,
Are words which you ne'er learnt in holy writ,
Till th' Spirit, and your Synod, mended it.
Where's all the twentieth part now, which hath
been

Paid you by fome, to forfeit the nineteen?
Where's all the goods diftrain'd, and plunders paft?
For you 're grown wretched pilfering knaves at
laft;

Defcend to brafs and pewter, till of late,
Like Midas, all ye touch'd must needs be plate.
By what vaft hopes is your ambition fed?
'Tis writ in blood, and may be plainly read:
You must have places, and the kingdom sway;
The king must be a ward to your lord Say.
Your innocent Speaker to the Rolls must rife;
Six thousand pound hath made him proud and

wife.

Kimbolton for his father's place doth call,
Would be like him ;-would he were, face and all!
Ifaack would always be lord mayor; and so
May always be, as much as he is now.
For the Five members, they fo richly thrive,
That they would always be but Members five.
Only Pym doth his natural right enforce,
By th' mother's fide he 's Mafter of the horse.
Moft fhall have places by thefe popular tricks,
The rest must be content with bishoprics.
For 'tis 'gainst fuperftition you 're intent;
First to root out that great church-ornament,
Moncy and lands: your fwords, alas! are drawn
Against the Bishop, not his cap, or lawn.

O let not fuch lewd facrilege begin,
Tempted by Henry's rich fuccessful fin!
Henry the monfter king of all that age;
Wild in his luft, but wilder in his rage.
Expect not you his fate, though Hotham thrives
In imitating Henry's tricks for wives;
Nor fewer churches hopes, than wives, to fee
Buried, and then their lands his own to be.

Ye boundless tyrants! how do you outvy
Th' Athenians' Thirty, Rome's Decemviry!
In rage, injustice, cruelty, as far

Above thofe men, as you in number are.
What mysteries of iniquity do we fee!
New prifons made to defend liberty!
Our goods forc'd from us for property's fake;
And all the real nonfenfe which ye make!

Ship-money was unjustly ta'en, ye fay ;
Unjuftlier far, you take the fhips away.
The High Commiflion you call'd tyranny:
Ye did! good God! what is the High Com-
mittee?

Ye faid that gifts and bribes preferments hought:
By money and blood too they now are fought.
To the king's will, the laws men ftrove to draw:
The fubjects' will is now become the law.
"Twas fear'd a new religion would begin :
The king delinquents to protect did strive:
All new religions, now, are enter'd in.
What clubs, pikes, halberts, lighters, fav'd the Five!
You think th' parl'ment like your ftate of grace;
Invafions then were fear'd against the state;
Whatever fins men do, they keep their place.
And Strode fwore last year would be eighty-

eight.

You bring-in foreign aid to your defigns,
First thofe great foreign forces of Divines,
Rather may stinking tobacco still be brought
With which fhips from America were fraught;
From thence, I fay: next, ye the Scots invite,
For England you intend with them to share :
Which you term brotherly-affiftance, right;
They, who, alas! but younger brothers are,
Muft have the monies for their portion;
The houses and the lands will be your own.
We thank you for the wounds which we endure,
Whilft fcratches and flight pricks ye feek to

cure;

We thank you for true real fears, at last,
Which free us from fo many falfe ones paft;
As a juft deht paid to great Strafford's ghoft;
We thank you for the blood which fats our coaft,
We thank you for the ills receiv'd, and all
Which yet by your good care in time we fhall;
We thank you, and our gratitude's as great
As yours, when you thank'd God for being beat.
CHARACTER

THE

OF AN HOLY SISTER.

fee 't ;

viz. 1642.