THE HISTORY OF THE Life Martyrdom OF St. GEORGE THE Titular Patron of England With his Conversion of Arabia by killing of a dreadful Dragon and delivering the Kings Daughter By THOMAS LOWICK Gent. LONDON Printed by J. Best for WILLIAM CROOK at the three Bibles on Fleet-Bridge 1664. Licensed June 24. 1664. ROGER LESTRANGE TO THE KINGS Most Excellent Majesty Dread Soveraign I Have read so many lying Books set forth Of great St. George wch much obscur'd his worth That much I mus'd and grieved for to see None of the sharers in the Daphnean Tree For King for Patron and for Countries sake Did such a glorious Subject undertake And their neglect only made me so bold Though aged now eighty and two years old with my old withered Hand to write upon The noblest Subject that the world hath one And have with all Sincerity set down St. George his Martial deeds and Martyrdom Vouchsafe then gratious Monarch for to take This little Poem for your Patrons sake For in my judgement never English King Had greater cause than You to honour Him Heroick force and Martial form withal Twixt King and Patron were collateral And that bright Orb where Mars is stellifi'd ' Did equal influence 'twixt you both divide And your great daring both as boundless were As that bold youth's Apollo's Charioteer Be pleased then earths greatest Martial King To hear your Vassal on your Patron sing And do vouchsafe him your propitious eyes He perisheth unless you Patronize Your Majesties most Humble Subject THOMAS LOWICK July 6. 1664. THE Life Martyrdom OF St. GEORGE ST George the Patron of our English men Was the Descendent of a Knightly stem Great Arms professors and to their great fame Professors all of Jesus Christ his Name His Father Sir Patritius was train'd In Caesars Wars and Martial honour gain'd Where ventring for the conquest of the Field He dyed renown'd under his sword and Shield Leaving St. George who was his only Son For to inherit great Possessions young Which he committing to a Stewards care Left Cappadocia his birth honour'd Air And with his Mother liv'd in Palestine Where he was School'd in rudiments Divine Till stealing Time and Nature lent to him More force then Hectors in Armes managing And as compleat a beauty fix'd thereon As had the Scriptures much-prais'd Absolon Nor wanted in his fair external frame Those moral gifts should dignifie the same Both Wit and Valour in his beauteous shape In such large measure did predominate That he was natures Manuscript indeed Where her prerogatives the world might read And lest he should sinisterly incline God stor'd his bosom with such gifts Divine That not so fair a type of Christ was then As great St. George amongst the sons of men And heimbellish'd thus himself addrest For Martial service in true honours quest For which being come unto the Court of Rome Great Caesar noting his indowments soon Mov'd with his Fathers death and Martial force He made St. George the General of his Horse Where like a prodigal of life did he Supply that place so magnanimously That never Rome in all her swelling pride Saw her bold sons led by a braver Guide Nor one that boldlier led the Imperial Horse Through their proud foes with more robustous force He charg'd them through and charg'd them back again And brought his Troops where first he placed them And ceas'd not charging till the foes all were Dispers'd and run like scatter'd Herds of Deer Yet never Trumpet his bold Conquest sounded Before the listing of his slain and wounded Whom he still with sad sighs and watry eyes Would see born back to honour'd obsequies That his brave actions from conjunction move Of Martial fire and fire of sacred love He courts the bold Bellona with his Horse And snatch'd her favours with such strenuous force That the Iron Goddess did enamoured grow And her coy favours on this Champion throw And Mars look'd envious from his fiery star To see his great Competitor in War And jealous to see his Bellona court him Whilst he in field so Martially did sport him That his appearance ' mongst his foes was fear'd Like to the blazing of a Comets beard None was so bold to tempt an angry fate Or buy his honour at so dear a rate As to encounter this Knight hand to hand But spelded duty on the groaning land And those Commanders which through proud disdain Loath'd for to hear the swelling of his fame And spur'd with glory thirst in fears despight Would needs buy honours of this valiant Knight He sent as Nuncioes to black Acheron To tell th' exploits the Red-cross Knight had done And bid those Ghosts their sulpherous vaults to cleanse For those proud guests St. George would send from thence And those which scape with life his swords incision And captives laid in Provost Martials prison Had rather live there then again go feel The ponderous blows of his remorseless steel In brief his great exploits and Martial glory Fill'd all th' Italian Confines with his story For great St. George had never Paragon But that immortal Champion which St. John Saw riding on the white Horse from Heavens gates Rev. 6.2 With power to conquer earths proud Potentates Yet his sweet candor during all the War Made many others seem canicular For all the darts and swords in Vulcans forge Like tender pitty pierc'd not princely George That little child Christ let the Apostles see To teach them meekness was lesse meek then he Whose actions like learn'd Lectures taught the rude That love is still betroath'd to fortitude How then learn'd Homer didst thou so digress To stile thy stormy Graecian valorous The valiant should he like that God and man Which David Lion Esaiah called Lamb So was St. George who ne're did internect A torvous look within his mild aspect He never was dejected nor elate With Protean changes of unconstant fate Nor did he ever vulgar Plaudit seek Vain glorious breath did never swell his cheek But my rude laudes injure his vertues glory Therefore I leave them and relate his story Whilst he and his Comrades enlarge the lands Of their great Caesar with successful hands Came an Embassage from th' Arabian coast And thus annunciates to that famous hoast You Mars starr'd children of victorious Rome Commanded by th' Arabian King I come To Romes great Monarch at whose feet do bow The greatest Potentates on earth below His aid and best assistance to request Against a Monster doth our Land infest Whose dreadful sight unto the eyes of man Exceeds the terror of Leviathan And for the vastness of his size doth pass That monstrous Horse the Graecians made of brass And by his entrails works us more annoy Then the dissolving of that Horse did Troy This Monster hath affixed wings and fins And flies through Air and through the water swims And from his entrails he exhaleth breath Which doth depopulate each place with death Nor will our Gods or
is the true Deity I hope I shall that favour impetrate T' invest the dusty dead with vital shape Which said he humbly prostrates on the ground Praying to Christ with piety profound Till trembling Tellus did begin to gape As if she would her self deviscerate Whilst from her jaws St. George a man did call Whose lively form did personate King Saul At which prodigious sight the Roman crouds Extoll'd the power of Jesus to the clouds And with opprobrious words did signifie Their great contempt of all idolatry But hear my Muse engage thy faculties The Tyrants fury to characterize That black Lord of th' infernal sulpherous flames When Hercules knock'd out his Porters brains Was but his type nor greater rage did throw Upon Gods Saints then did this Tyrant do Their mutual malice and inveterate hate Caesar and Satan both concatenate Such friends as Pilate and false Herod were Against the Lord of life when he liv'd here So that in deeds and tortures it is clear Caesar and Satan both confatal were And both alike did brook those joyful cryes As show'd by rageful rabulosities Which were so obsonant to every ear That never Christian like to them did hear Blasphemous Julian and that Philistine Which was corrected by King Davids fling And those great builders of old Babels Tower Which breath'd defiance against th' Almighties power Might plead their blasphemies but venial sin Had they compai'd with Dioelesian been But when his tongues fellifluence had spent What Satan his Dictator could invent Loathing St. George his presence he commands His Grooms to whip him with impetuous hands Unto a Dungeon which grim Pluto might For depth and horror challenge for his right Or else the Closet which he did assign Unto his Dam the snakie Proserpine But loe th' effect of Davids Prophesie That earths Abisms should Jesus glorifie For hither crouds of Convertites resort Drawn by his famous miracles report Which by St. George his preaching unto them By multitudes converted souls became ' Mongst whom was one Glicerius dull and rude But compleat in the gift of fortitude Whilst this Georgick Groom pursued his toyl His Ox fell dead in plowing of the soyl Which loss did much depauperate the Swain Because his tillage did his House maintain Wherefore in haste he to the Martyr went With earnest sute but little complement And pray'd him of his charity redress His grievous chance and indigent distress St. George the loss commiserating much Which did this rural swain so nearly touch And well discerning the great confidence Which he repos'd in Christs Omnipotence Said Glicery believe in Jesus Name And be assur'd thy Ox shall live again The man return'd and finding him alive Continual thanks did unto Jesus give Who useth much his servants to convert By miracles consorting to their Art The draught of fish Christ bid St. Peter draw Confirm'd that Fisher-man in Christian Law When prison doors unlock'd themselves to Paul Converted Jaylors at his feet did fall And now this Ox rais'd by Christs power again Made the bold Plow-man to confess Christs Name For which through Caesars cruelties he try'd A world of tortures and with honour dy'd Loe not the Heralds book Heavens Registers Should guide the Writers of mens characters For here you see this Groom with life's expence Nobly maintain'd the Churches eminence Whilst there stood by him many a Lord and Peer Who durst not Christ confess through slavish fear But now I leave this blessed Convertite And of St. George his great Converter write Who fast inclos'd in his dark Conditory Was sought out by the King of endless glory Who with his presence made that den of night Competitor with heaven it self for light O wondrous thing that mortal man can move The great Almighty thus to Court his love And like Pigmalion but with sacred flame To fall in love with what his hands did frame Surely the Angels were they not Divine Might at these graces to St. George repine That none of them might this embassage bring Or internunciate 'twixt their Lord and him But that himself must thus come visit men Both in the High-ways and in dirty den As witness both St. Paul this Martyr here And many moe to whom he did appear But Jesus now to make his love more known Set on St. George his head a glorious Crown And thus pours out his most immense affection Be constant George I will be thy protection Lose not the glorious place prepar'd for thee With tortures terror or timidity To whom the prostrate Martyr thus replies My soul abhorreth such Apostacies I am resolv'd t' obtain the Martyrs crown Were it to suffer till the day of Doom But Lord my frailty is well known to thee Support sweet Jesus my proclivity Thus Christ his Saint left in that nightful place But all illuminate with heavenly grace But Caesars grief sticks to him more and more Like to the burning shirt Alcides wore Vexing to see the Saint his malice scorns As Hunters Acteons long revengeless horns And still his griefs do stick unto his heart Until he can the glorious Saint pervert Which to effect he now puts confidence In gratious usage and blandiloquence No hour doth pass but Caesar to him sends Great visitants to tender his commends No more do his contracted brows look grim But gratious countenance reflect on him Now he commends unto the Jaylors care To serve the Saint with all delicious fare And to omit no diligence therein To notifie his change of love to him All which being done Caesar in Council-Hall Inthron'd amongst his Lords and Princes all Sent for St. George and gracing him far more With all respects of honour then before Bespoke him thus George thy undaunted spirit Hath gain'd so great opinion of thy merit That if thou wouldst a little condescend Thou shouldst be Caesars chief and only friend And all those honours thou possest of late Our bounteous love to thee shall triplicate Be prudent then it rests now at thy pleasure To be an abject or a second Caesar But hereby well the Martyr understands This Syrens song did bode some wrackful sands Which to prevent in blandant manner thus He keeps a project still subnubilous Come gratious Monarch let us go to see That sumptuous Temple of your Deity Which plausive motion so did Caesar win That with embraces he embosom'd him And made it by his Bell-men to be cry'd Apollo conqueror of the crucifi'd And gave command that all his noble train Should to Apollo's Temple wait on them So that there came a greater multitude Then all that spatious Temple could include Th' officious Priests made punctual preparation For all things did belong to their Oblation And nothing wanted now they could desire Except St. George to give th' Oblation fire And his approach their wishes obviates For loe he entred the great Temple gates Attended with moe eyes which came to see Then witnessed great Sampsons Tragedy And silence call'd thus Heavens Commissioner Interrogates the
instatued Lucifer Apollo I command thee let us know If thou be that great God to whom we owe Honour Divine and daily Sacrifice Be brief and speak delude us not with lyes I must confess the conscious Fiend reply'd There doth no power Divine in me abide I am of those damn'd Legions which were driven By great St. Michael from the gates of Heaven And we since then strive through inveterate pride Amongst the simple to be Deifi'd To whom the Martyr thus reply'd again I charge thee Satanist here to explain Who is that mighty God whose dreadful power We justly ought to honour and adore Christ Jesus is true God the Fiend reply'd And their 's no other God indeed beside St. George said then how Rebel to my God Durst thou near me his servant make abode Which powerful words did with more terror sound Then Josua's trumpets did which threw to ground The Walls of Jerico for loe the Temple From the foundation gan to shake and tremble Wherewith the Idol in small parcels fell And with strange noise the Fiend departs to Hell Th' amazed Romans at this accident Were suddenly involv'd with wonderment And then with cloud delacerating cryes Bless'd Jesus Christ which open'd their blind eyes But who can pen those plenary delights Which did possess those Roman Convertites Come Muse thou must thy faculties advance And figurate them with all exuberance On that blest Friday when Jehovahs Son Perform'd the work of our Redemption He did descend and opened Limbus gate And those imprison'd souls discarcerate What joy did that great Goal-delivery bring When Christ had cancelled our bond of sin But to declare the great and fluctuous strife Of Caesars brest no Muse can pen to life He was more pinch'd and frighted with those cryes Then Acteon with his hounds and horned guise His words were all with sparks of fire repleat Hotter then Vulcan from his forges beat His oblique eyes did blaze with flaming fire And blistred where they look'd with rageful ire Such was the Tyrants grief such joy abounded With Romans when Apollo was confounded But in this Jubile the barbarous Guard Commits the Martyr to his former Ward Where all Apollo's Priests and raskal slaves Discharge on him their hate with whips and staves But Caesar after all these wonders still Stood individually compact with Hell And shared both in sorrow and confusion With this Avernist in his just exclusion And for his absence fiercely rageth still Like furens Hercules on Aetna's Hill But at the last Apollo's deep disgrace Made the confounded Tyrant leave that place And overwhelmed with sad discontent Unto the Palace from the Temple went Where his obsequious Lords their chief surround But could not balsomate his gangrend wound For as the wounded Whale forsakes the brine And to the fatal shore doth draw a line That English Fishers do find out his gate And with their Guns his wounds multiplicate So Caesar fared but why give I that name To him that was but Satans counter-pane Their comfort he declines resolv'd to follow No counsel but of his old damnd Apollo Who both confounded stand with grief and shame Like Bajazet led in his iron chain To have his shoulders made a footstool on For Tamberlane to mount his horse upon And both sufflate with malice there did stand For to behold Jehovahs gratious hand Work such great wonders for the Martyrs sake In all the sufferings he did undertake What rage and malice did those Vassals smother And with what oblique eyes view'd they each other O that some curious Limner of our age Could purtrait them in this same very page To please the English Reader of this story With Caesars shame and their great Patrons glory But some which knew the nature of his sore Was like to theirs Achilles Lance did gore To cure the same and please the Tyrants mood Present the Martyr all begoar'd with blood But to excruciate that prophane delight This sanguinary Wolf took in this sight Behold the Empress Alexandra came And boldly did confess Christ Jesus Name Intreating of St. George his prayers that she Might in the Christian faith perseverant be And with her tears his bloody feet did bath Kissing the wounds he suffered for his Faith Which did the hateful Tyrant so incense He made Orlando's rage tame patience And such flagitious blasphemies did spue As sainted that foul Monster David slew And even with Lucifer might justly vie Facinorous guilt for Hells supremacy But when this earths great Lucifer at last Had his defiance against Jesus cast Thus he the remnant of his Hellish hate Against the Empress doth evaporate Why do not tardy Devils this strumpet bear To th' under Bridewel which disturbs us here And in our presence in despight of us Doth here become so meretricious That with her tears and kisses she doth crouch To this Inchanter whom we hate so much O vultuous impudence spectators say Is she a Woman or some Succuba But she no responsory word at all Daign'd those invectives Diabolical But prostrate still implores the aid Divine That she may never from her faith decline But this great zeal which did her soul inspire With vilependence of the Tyrants ire Put his blood-thirsty heart unto more pain Then if some greedy Vulture grasp'd the same But as some glutton which through surfeit sore Abhors those delicates he lik'd before Caesar through those affronts he had of late The Martyrs presence did most deadly hate And gladly now would free himself of them That so oblivion might decrease his pain Wherefore in haste his bloody Grooms he calls And bids them lead the Saints without the Walls And cutting off their heads their bodies throw Into the ditches food for Kite and Crow In which imployment every Vassal tryes Who should exceed in their immanities Cutting with corded gives their tender veins That bloods effusion might augment their pains And as they led them to th' appointed place Those hateful Vassals ply'd their whips apace Until the bloody showrs their bodies ran The dusty wayes with sanguine tincture stain Which dear expence of blood and tedious gate This Royal Empress did debilitate And her own weight her bloodless limbs opprest Enforcing her upon her knees to rest And as a Rose o're-sway'd with showers of rain Do's hang its sweet top to the grassy Plain This languid Lady doth her face Divine Surcharg'd with bleeding to the ground decline And with her prostrate prayers her soul expires Receiv'd by Angels to celestial quires By whose departure now remained free St. George from all his great anxiety Her souls security by loss of breath Doth now so much facilitate his death That pardon'd wretches from the Jaylors room Went with less joy then he to Marty rdom Where his beheading stroke at last was given Whilst Angels Plaudits in the Court of Heaven Conducted his great spirit unto rest Under Heavens glorious Altar ever blest ' Mongst those great Conquerors in the Martyrs Wars Whose crowns are Sun beams and their foot-stool Stars FINIS Books sold by William Crook at the three Bibles on Ludgate-Hill near Fleet-bridge THe Pillar of Gratitude by Dr. Gauden Two Sermons preached at the Temple by Dr. Gauden Plain Mathematician being an Explanation of the hardest Problems in Geometry making easie Geometrical Arithmetick Meususuration Dyalling c. and other difficulties of Geometry by Th. G. Sin Dismantled showing the loathsomness thereof in laying it open by Confession with the remedy for it by Repentance and Conversion wherein is set forth the manner how we ought to confess our sins to God and Man with the Consiliary Decrees from the Authority thereof and for the shewing the necessity of Priestly Absolution removing the disesteem the vulgar have of Absolution setting forth the power of Ministers c.