Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A86134
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This last ages looking-glasse: or Englands sad elligie. By S. H.
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S. H.
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1642
(1642)
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Wing H125; Thomason E124_2; ESTC R4702
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5,262
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19
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Laws that are inacted ' Gainst Subjects Liberties and Rights Alas poor Soules Oh wofull wights That once so fairely flourished Are now quite Dead and Perished What Age is this wherein we live All takes away and none will give Takes what our chiefest Joys increase Our choisest Jem our Jewell Peace This Nations chiefest Ornament Yet none doe Sorrow or Repent Some muddie makes the Christall streame Others of better times doe dreame But as for me I le serue and feare The Lord my God and King most deare O wofull age that ere was seen How neare to falling have we been Somtimes by sword of Forraigne foe Somtimes home broyles Domesticke woe We have beene scourg'd with famine great The poore have di'd for want of meat Yea further Gods most heavie hand With Pestilence hath plagu'd this land But still in safetie we have slept For sinfull crimes we have not wept But to our selves have cried peace Living securely and at ease When as our sins are as the sand ' Gainst God himself we warlike stand But marke we now how times do turne In staed of mirth we now must mourne One griefe another up doth call Our drinke is teares mingled with gall Sorrow we doe we cannot speake Our hearts with griefe are like to breake Some are possest with Jealous feares drunk with worm wood tearse But I 'm resolved firmely still To keep Gods and my Soveraigns will Yea stranger still doth seem this Age The poore opprest the wicked rage With Murders Rapines and with Theft This Land is poll'd and nothing left No man living scarcely can say This is mine own for 't I did pay He that hath felt the smart can tell That strongest bears away the Bell Yet some fatted to the slaughter Spend their time in Mirth and Langhter Merrily quaffing off their VVine Vainly spending precious Time Though Sword be drawn and Bow be bent And all the wicked must be shent How idly still their daies are spent Their hearts are heard they 'l not relent But putting off the evill day To turn from sin they do delay In sinfull crimes they live and dye Which in their bosoms hidden lye Gods word by them is set by light Those sacred Lines do dim their sight But firme and constant I will prove My God to fear my King to love Was ever Age in such a case To bring forth such a Rebels Race To sheathe his Sword in 's Fellows side To Lye Dissemble and cog beside Judas-like each other betray For Peace few Preach for Love few Pray We are taught a quite contrary way None caring what they speake or say It 's as common to vent Treason As t' is to speake sence and Reason Yee flintie stones what not relent To see this sadd and dire Event Of times wicked inclination Which threates ruine to this Nation Our Sins the Skies haue Ascended Yet our lives are not Amended Still drawing downe Gods irefull rod Procureing emnitie with God without whose freindship there 's no peace Nor hope of Judgments great release But a fearfull expectation Of destruction to this Nation But Lord thy favour let me finde That God and King may haue my minde Alas pore age what is the cause Force guides thee now and not the lawes That formerly haue rul'd this Land All gvided were by their command But how are they infringed now Old statuts to the new must bow Surely there was no wisdome then This Age hath got far wiser men True it is but is' t not most strange That these times should so quickly change And be as though they ne'rc had bene The oldest man this true hath seene Sins are the sole procureing things That alterations alwayes bringes Yet this full litle is regarded Though sin 's never unrewarded Yet till wee feele the wofull smart Wee will not lay our sins to heart Wee put our trust in horses strength Measuring God by our owne length To our Nets thus Sacrificing Not regarding evils rising Lord grant on thee I may depend And serve my god and King to th' end Did ever age know such a thing For Songs of Joy we Sorrow sing Our joyfull notes are changed quite And mournefull tunes we Sing each night With frights and feares we stand agast To see these times and what is Past But when we thinke of times to come We stricken speachles are and dumbe Our peace is turned into warre We one with other seeke to jarre Envie hath up her Kingdome set Hatred this Nation hath beset Divisions great from Sects doe spring Which have devided People and King All truly are at variance Oh sad estate oh wofull chance And silence up our mouthes haue shut Pride and arrogance bravely strut Yea beggars ride Kings goe on foot Swolne ambition rules looke too 't Each one dare not trust another Brother persecutes the brother But I detest such tunes to sing I le love my God and my good King An age indeed to see the times Bespread with ribauldries and rimes Striking at scepters yea Kings wounding Royall Monarchie confounding Seeking to eclipse his name Whose worth shall outlive time and fame Yea flourish still and fairely shine ' Mongst men on earth ane Saints divine His peacefull raigne begot a storie To Crowne his yeares with lasting glorie Which evill tongues can never blast But shall all Ages farr out last Nay here their malice doth not bound What Sacred things have they left sound With strange Sects we are devided Law and Gospell are derided Decent order is neglected Church government disrespected All ceremonies now must downe They with Garlands their actions Crowne Great distractions full this Land Tell me then Can this Kingdome stand I 'me dumbe Lord teach me what to say That I to God for King may pray Now having taken this short view Of things not good yet too too true Of things not heard in times before Which ages now may well deplore No Age that 's past can paralell These times wherein we live and dwell Yea after Ages shall admire Flourishing England now on fire Let us now look another way And unto God Almighty pray Lord look down from Heaven and see This Nations wofull miserie Behould our languishing Estate Let not our sorrow come too late We are at the pit ready to fall From sinking Lord do us recall Make up the breaches Thou' rt the Man Of the distrest Physitian If thou hold off what are we then Most miserable of all Men. O succour Lord and help us send Thou art our God be thou our friend That I in heart and voice may sing To God be prayse and to my King Help Lord for thou art onely hee Or els we never shall agree We are arrived at that height That thou alone canst make us straight O we are rent and wounded sore Our wounds increase still more and more Each one seeking to have his will But few the Law for to fulfill It is a curb that keeps us in We strive to free us from this gin Lord cut off those rotten Members That of these broiles are the senders That in this Land run to and froe To hatch the Eggs of wretched woe Whose hearts and minds are wholly bent To cause this Land sadly lament Sowing seditious wicked seed Thou Lord root out that sinfull Breed And let the World see and wonder At them struck dead with thy Thunder But let them live in Joyes increase That love the Olive branch of Peace Who Joy to heare of Sions Joy Let no dire mischiefe them anoy But let them live and flourish still And guard them strongly from all ill Lord teach my heart to prayse thy name Let tongue and voyce eeke doe the same Let Charles glorie through England ring Let Subjects say God Save the King FINIS
THIS LAST AGES LOOKING-GLASSE OR ENGLANDS SAD ELLIGIE By S. H. Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus Aspiciunt occulis superi mortalia Justis Printed at York by Stephen Bulkley 1642. With Licence COVRTEOVS READER IF thou look for a large Epistle to this little Pamphlet thy expectation is Frustrate for I am affraid to fall into the Citizens of MINDAS disease that my Book should run out at the Portall If thou finde any thing Worth thy Reading make Vse of it Looke not at the rudenesse either of the Phrase or the Verse but the well-meaning of the Author Looke not for Polished Lines but Matter pointing at the Times It is the first Born if it miscarry or prove Abortive it will be an obstruction to the Second Birth to hinder the bringing forth But however if thou Like it take it if not leave it and begone So Farewell Thine as Thou Vsest Him S. H. Seeing WHat Age is this that we behould Where war is bought peace is sould When we look each one at his own Reaping the seeds others have sown O how we make our Christall Eyes Of Villainies vile to be the Spies We see the Moate but not the Beame Other faults great ours small we deeme As the Eagle we are quick of sight Bringing anothers deeds to light But as blind beetles we cannot see Our own sad wofull miserie We waile the Judgment and the Rod But not our sins offending God We as the Dog look at the stone But at our sins few or none Will once look back and see the thing That doth Gods vengeance swiftly bring We see neither cause nor sender But vengeance for wrath we render We see all things but what we should Lord cast us in a better mould And grant mine Eyes may see the thing That may please God and eeke my King Hearing WHat Age is this wherein I Heare Such sound of Treason in mine Eare Such contumelies and such Lyes As deafs mine Ears and blinds mine Eyes Of sterne War such dreadfull rumors But to satiate some mens humors Whose sole delight is onely bloud That they may bathe in Crimson floud If they laugh who weep they care not Yea to ruine all they spare not I st Religion or Reason That keeps no Time Tune or Season What Blasphemies do some relate Against Our God our King and State Some cry out of Church Government Some to ruine the Temple are bent And some cannot endure to Heare The Sound o' th' Organ in their Eare Nor yet our Churches Bells sweet sound They doe their fiery zeale confound The Charmers Voice they will not Heare His Tongue not chained to their Eare But God grant I may Heare the thing That Sound may well to God and King Smelling WHat Age is this wherein I Smell Such noysome stench from hatefull Hell Such unsavoury poysoned Weeds That in this Land Infection breeds Infecting so the healthfull Ayre Raysing sterne Stormes for Weather faire Are these the Nosegaies of Delight Please they the Sence the Nose or Sight Me thinks the stench ascends the Brain Poysoning the Stomack and each Vain Diffusing venom through the Joints And at Destruction only points Putting the Body out of frame Making all things seem not the same Oh! how it poysoned hath my Nose To Smell the Hemlock for the Rose For odoriferous Sents most Sweet To Smell the Channell in the Street For Practise I have found but show Mark how this new-found Age doth grow Me thinks now here I smell a Knave That speaks this thing and that would have But Lord grant me my Smelling well That I with God and King may dwell Tasting WHat Age is this wherein I rest To Taste things baske for what are best Sowre things for pleasant do not well For vain shaddows the substance sell This bargain is a bad exchange Good soiles leaving on Heathes to range To drink puddle in stead of Meed May danger in the body breed It cannot well my Tasting relish The Dish of Treason it is Hellish Hath no Savour to good Pallats Resembling right to weedy Sallats That have a rank and noysome Taste Most fit on Dung-hill to be caste That neither rellish well nor feed Let us detest this fruitlesse seed Oh how I have my Coyne layd out For fruitlesse food I fear I doubt My Mouth it is clean out of season To see Men live so voide of Reason To Taste all things they do refrain But what are tempered in their Brain But God grant I may Taste the thing That relish may my God and King Touching WHat Age is this wherein I stand That I should now lift up a Hand ' Gainst Him whom God did sole Annoint I le racked be from joynt to joynt And each Limbe be pull'd asunder Before I make the World wonder At such vile trayterous Acts of mine My thoughts and deeds I will refine And in that mould my Actions frame That may me spotlesse leave to Fame Oh let that Hand for ever rot That ' gainst my Liege doth Act a Plot That may his patient Spirit move Or any way estrange his Love Nor in the Land let any Live That would His Grace ill Councell give Shall any harpe upon that string To take up Arms against their King The Lords Annoynted for to touch A wicked Heart I have none such I hate the waies of such a wight they are not pleasing in Gods sight God grant I may touch on that string That may please God and eeke my King Common Sences WHat Age is this say Common Sence Worse cannot be by consequence I see few Men that look at Peace or strive to make the VVarrs to cease they do pretend Peace in their VVords Whilst they are brandishing their Swords I Heare no tidings of Concord Look down upon us now O Lord Each Day brings forth more cruell things In each Eare wofull tidings Rings I Smell nothing that pleasant is Sorrow is neer but far is Blisse For beauty burning for sweet smells stink For pleasant VVine we VVorm wood Drink I Taste nothing that gives content Our sweet meats now we must Repent We had the Dainty fare of Peace But now we must forgoe our ease My Touch and Feeling I have lost These things too dearely have me cost I Touch nothing but am defil'd With Chaffe for Corne I am beguil'd Will Common Sence nothing availe Will not the naked Truth prevaile These things are strange and very rare Lord free this Land of broken ware O smite these Rebels in the Head And with dread Thunder strike them Dead That all may See Touch Taste and Heare And Learn our God to dread and Feare That I and All may quickly Smell That God and King them all will quell Stay Let me wonder once again What Flouds of Tears run down amain What wofull shreeks what trembling Hands What Fear to lose Lives Goods and Lands Oh how we Weep we Mourn and Waile Thongh it doe us but small availe To See the Times thus distracted To heare